


Reckless Impulse

by meesha1971



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-11-16 02:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meesha1971/pseuds/meesha1971
Summary: Daryl just smirked as he leaned around Jesus to grab a plate, pressing against him as he stretched up to reach the cabinet and effectively surrounding him in an almost embrace with his other arm braced on the counter.  Jesus went rigid, the breath backing up in his lungs and his pulse throbbing, hard and thick.  His eyes locked on Daryl’s neck.  They were pressed so close that he could just dip his head and take a taste of the soft flesh there.  Daryl’s shirt had ridden up a bit so he could feel the warmth from the exposed skin and had to fight the urge to just wrap his arms around Daryl and take a sample of what he had unintentionally offered.Jesus gives in to temptation.  What will Daryl do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've changed the rating on this from mature to explicit due to the sexual content being ... well ... explicit. lol
> 
> I've also updated the summary.

The end of the world hadn’t come with a bomb or another world war.  It had come stealthily in the form of a disease hidden dormant in the body until death awakened it.  It had come with the dead rising to walk.  And to eat.  It had come with the crunching of teeth, the tearing of flesh, and blood spilled in the streets.  The dead had no prejudice.  Every living thing was a potential meal.  Those who survived had witnessed horrors that would forever scar them, and the fight to continue surviving became a priority.  

For Daryl Dixon, the end of the world had been an ironic contradiction.  Like other survivors, he had lost his family and people he knew. He had fought the dead and the living.  But the end of the world had stripped away the miseries in his life.  Everything that had held him down.  Everything that had caused people to look down on him.  Or worse, pity him.  The end of the world had given him a second chance to lead a happier life.  To be a better person … or at least try to.  Unlike other survivors, he didn’t miss how things were for him before the end.  He didn’t miss the abuse his father had subjected him to or following Merle around like a puppy from one sleazy dive to the next, doing nothing but getting drunk while Merle got high.  He didn’t miss having no one who really cared about him.

The end of the world had given him a real family.  Good people who had shown him what family really meant.  That he could be a good person.  How good it felt to help people.  How good it felt to be loved and accepted just for who he was.  Sometimes he still wondered why, but that only made him more grateful that they did.  His family was the light at the end of what had been a very long, dark tunnel for him.  He knew that he wouldn’t be the man he is now or have this family if the world had not ended.

Tonight, he stood watch to protect them and their home.  They were at war with the Saviors now.  People from the Hilltop and the Kingdom were still at Alexandria as preparations were being made for the next battle.  Negan had retreated, but he had a lot of Saviors under his control and could order another attack.  Daryl’s eyes scanned the area visible from his watchtower.  To his left, one of the Kingdom knights stood on another watch tower.  He wore body armor over loose, comfortable clothes.  He had dark hair, thinning some, and a neatly trimmed beard.  Daryl searched his memory for a name, but drew a blank.  Too many new people to remember them all right now.  He’d get to know them in time.

But he knew the man on the tower to his right.  Paul Rovia gave a cheerful wave.  The long, brown hair and beard had earned him the nickname of “Jesus” – which Daryl still thought was screwy – but the look suited him.  He was almost ridiculously handsome with eyes the clear blue of a summer sky; a narrow, aesthetic face; the slash of cheekbones; and sculpted mouth. Without the beard, Daryl thought, he might have been too pretty.  Daryl shook himself out of this hazy reverie when Jesus called out.

“Almost time for the shift change.”

Daryl just nodded to show he’d heard, relieved the shift was almost over.  He was exhausted and getting punchy – a dangerous combination while standing watch.  His stomach rumbled to remind him that he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch.  He needed food and a solid night’s sleep.  The early morning hunt hadn’t been the best idea.  Especially when it had been followed by a 20-hour day consisting of a supply run, several hours of training the less experienced fighters, and the late-night watch shift.

But what else was he supposed to do when he woke at 3:00 am shaking and disoriented with his pulse pounding in his ears?  He was sure that it hadn’t been a nightmare that woke him – the last bad one had been that night at Hilltop after the Saviors had taken Dr. Carson – but he couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about or even if he’d dreamed at all.   He’d just been restless with a niggling sensation that he had forgotten something important.  But he couldn’t think of what it might be and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.  So, he’d gotten up instead and slipped out of the house quietly to go hunting because that always helped him clear his head.

His head wasn’t so clear now and he was regretting that early morning hunt – though he had bagged a good size buck.  He just wasn’t sure that was good enough compensation for the exhaustion he felt now.  He glanced down at the sound of footsteps and saw Rosita heading towards them with Eduardo from the Hilltop and a woman from the Kingdom.  Debbie? Deena?  No, Dianne, he remembered.  Good shot with the bow.  He heard her call the other Kingdom knight Alvaro and tried to make note of the name, but he wasn’t sure it would stick in the fog of his sleepy brain right now.  Eduardo headed over to relieve Jesus and Rosita headed straight for his watch tower, climbing up to join him.

“Daryl,” she said without preamble, fisting her hands on her hips, “you look like shit.  Go to bed.”

Daryl was too tired to take offense.  “Gonna eat first,” he said through a yawn as he started to climb down.  He stumbled slightly, missing the last rung, and felt an arm snake around his waist to catch him.  He froze at the unexpected contact, his stomach clenching, pulse racing, and his breath coming short and quick.  At the sound of Jesus’ voice, he willed himself to relax and even his breathing.

“She may be blunt, but she’s right.  You need to get some sleep.”  

Jesus’ hair fluttered gently in the light breeze as they walked away from the watch tower.  Daryl had a sudden urge to touch it – to see if it felt as soft as it looked – and shook his head to clear it.  _Definitely need sleep._  “Food first,” he responded as his stomach rumbled again.  “Carol’s still here.  She made a casserole for dinner.”  Which he’d missed because he’d been running late for his shift on watch.

Jesus stayed close as they walked back to the house, concerned because Daryl looked like he could keel over at any minute.  His eyes were shadowed and seemed a darker blue than normal against his pale face.  He wanted to bundle Daryl up and tuck him into bed to make sure he got some rest, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea.  Not just because Daryl would likely punch him in the face for trying, but also because It would be too tempting to just snuggle in next to Daryl – and that definitely was not a good idea.  There was always the temptation to do more and he still wasn’t sure how Daryl would react if he told him how he felt.

Daryl focused on putting one foot in front of the other.  He hadn’t felt this exhausted in a while.  Not since … He pushed those thoughts away.  Thinking about being held prisoner by Negan risked bringing on another nightmare.  His chest felt tight, and he still had that annoying sense that he had forgotten something as he and Jesus walked home, but he pushed it aside.  He was too tired to try to figure it out right now.  As they entered the house, his sleepy brain registered two things.  The glorious smell of what was left of the casserole sitting on the counter, and that there were a lot of people in the house.

“We were just going over a few things before heading up,” Rick said when Daryl looked to him.  “You look – “

“Like shit,” Daryl finished for him.  “Rosita already said.  I’m gonna eat somethin’ and go to bed.”

Rick nodded and went back to the chart he had been going over with King Ezekiel.  Daryl headed into the kitchen where Jesus was already sniffing appreciatively at the casserole.

“This smells wonderful.”  He turned to face Carol, leaning back against the counter.

“It is wonderful,” Carol retorted, smiling at him and then looked over at Daryl.  “Use a plate,” she said, still smiling.  “And a fork,” she called back with a chuckle as she went over to join Ezekiel and Rick.

“Nag, nag, nag,” Daryl muttered under his breath.

“I heard that!”

Daryl just smirked as he leaned around Jesus to grab a plate, pressing against him as he stretched up to reach the cabinet and effectively surrounding him in an almost embrace with his other arm braced on the counter.  Jesus went rigid, the breath backing up in his lungs and his pulse throbbing, hard and thick.  His eyes locked on Daryl’s neck.  They were pressed so close that he could just dip his head and take a taste of the soft flesh there.  Daryl’s shirt had ridden up a bit so he could feel the warmth from the exposed skin and had to fight the urge to just wrap his arms around Daryl and take a sample of what he had unintentionally offered.  He gripped the counter behind him hard to keep his hands in place and prayed Daryl didn’t notice he’d gone hard.

“Sorry,” Daryl said, looking down when he felt Jesus tense up.  He watched Jesus worrying his bottom lip, fascinated by the flash of white teeth tugging the soft skin, his fingers tingling.  Then he blinked and took a step back to break the contact.  “Crowded in here.”

“Yeah,” Jesus breathed out, unable to tear his eyes away from Daryl.  His shaggy, dark hair hung in his face, as usual, but it didn’t hide the intensity of those stunning blue eyes.  He found himself staring at those soft lips, surrounded by a scruffy beard and struggled to get himself under control, but couldn’t stop himself from imagining what it would be like to really kiss him.

He pushed himself off the counter and took the plates Daryl was holding.  “I’ll get that for you.  You’re exhausted.  Sit before you keel over.”  It helped to move – to do something.  Anything that didn’t involve fantasizing about Daryl.

Daryl watched Jesus scoop some of the casserole onto each plate, vaguely thinking that the quivering in his stomach had to be due to hunger.  He stared at the plate Jesus set in front of him for a second before digging in.  They ate in silence as the room slowly emptied of people.  Something kept trying to push through the fog in Daryl’s brain, but he was too tired to focus on it.

When they finished eating, Jesus rinsed off the plates, and Daryl stumbled up the stairs towards his room.  After making sure Daryl made it to his room okay, Jesus went to the room Rick had given him down the hall.  He stretched out on the floor, his thoughts jumbled and his body still tingling from what had happened in the kitchen.  Here, alone in the dark, he could let himself think about it.  His mind took him back to the kitchen, imagining that he and Daryl were alone and that Daryl was reaching for him instead of a plate.  Daryl kissing him, sliding their tongues together.  It was Daryl’s hand stroking the hard length of him while they kissed.  Daryl’s fingers wrapping around him.  He kept that image in place as he pleasured himself, and it was Daryl’s name he whispered into the dark when the orgasm ripped through him.

Cleaning himself up and settling into a sleeping bag, Jesus couldn’t help but think back to how it had really happened.  The way Daryl had looked at him so intensely made him wonder if there might be a chance after all.  But Daryl had been exhausted so he might be reading too much into it.  Too many questions and he was still afraid to find out the answers.  But maybe it was time for him to face that fear and stop being so careful around Daryl.  _Just take it slow and see what happens_.  He drifted off to sleep, still mulling it over in his head.

Oblivious to what was happening down the hall, Daryl stretched out on his sleeping bag without bothering to get undressed.  His mind blissfully blank, he was asleep within minutes, tumbling into the dreams he could never remember upon waking.  Blue eyes twinkling with laughter.  Soft, warm lips pressed against his.  The tickle of long, brown hair brushing over his face and neck.  Slick, smooth skin under his hands.  Long, graceful fingers caressing him and brushing through his hair.  He slid deeper into sleep with the soft echo of moans fading into the blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl snapped awake, instantly alert and crouched with his knife in his hand.  He relaxed and took a deep breath when he registered the knocking on his door as the noise that woke him and Rick’s voice.

“Daryl!” he called through the door.  “Rise and shine!”

Daryl reached for his boots only to find that he was still wearing them.  He’d really been out of it last night, he realized.  He barely remembered eating and didn’t remember laying down at all.  But he’d slept through the night and had apparently slept well since he didn’t feel groggy or disoriented this morning.  Without bothering to change, he went down to get some breakfast.  He was digging into a bowl of oatmeal when Jesus stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and stretching.  Then he stopped and sniffed the air.

“Coffee?”  He said it like a prayer.

“You’re in luck,” Rick said, handing him a steaming mug.  “Daryl brought some back yesterday.”

He gripped the mug with both hands and sipped the hot liquid reverently, letting out an appreciative moan.  “This officially makes Daryl the man of my dreams,” he quipped, batting his eyes at Daryl as Rick laughed.

Daryl just scowled and spooned up more oatmeal, trying to ignore that sly smile that Jesus seemed to save just for him.  It wasn’t a big deal.  He’d just spotted the coffee and remembered Jesus had been wishing they could find some.  It wasn’t like he’d gone out of his way to find it.  That subdivision hadn’t been that far off the route he’d been given, and it had been worth the time to look for stuff they needed.  Finding 6 bags of coffee had just been a bonus.  “It’s just coffee,” he muttered.

Jesus only smiled and continued to savor his coffee, thinking Daryl was just adorable when he blushed that way.  He glanced over at Rick and asked, “What’s on the menu for today?”

“More supplies,” Rick responded, topping off his own cup.  “The Saviors took a lot from us.  We don’t have enough food or medicine.  We need beds.  Can’t keep sleeping on the floor.  Ezekiel mentioned some areas near the Kingdom that are worth checking out.”

“Need more guns,” Daryl said, waving his spoon at Rick.  “Explosives.  Maggie wants us to try to find some riot gear.”

“We’ll keep looking for all of that, too,” Rick agreed easily.  “I’m sending out two crews today.  But we need beds too.”

“It could be a good boost for morale,” Jesus added, earning an annoyed glare from Daryl.  “There’s a furniture store not too far from the Kingdom.  We could check it out.”

“Nothin’ wrong with the floor,” Daryl grumbled.

“No, but a bed’s more comfortable, and a good night’s sleep makes for stronger fighters,” Michonne pitched in.  “Definitely happier fighters”.

Daryl couldn’t argue with that, but he still felt like they were wasting time making a run for furniture when they were still at war with the Saviors.  An hour later, he was still complaining as they drove towards the city.

“You know how long it’s gonna take to load up that many mattresses?”

“It’ll be worth it,” Jesus assured him.  “Imagine how good it will feel to snuggle into clean sheets on soft bed tonight.”

Daryl didn’t want to think about snuggling into anything.  It made him feel twitchy just hearing Jesus say it.  He’d rather be out there, hunting down the Saviors.  But that wasn’t the plan.  Still, there were more useful things they could be looking for besides beds.  Guns, grenades, any kind of explosives, the riot gear Maggie wanted ….

“Turn left up ahead,” Jesus said, gesturing.

“You sure about this place?” Daryl asked as he made the turn.

“I saw it a few months ago when I was out scouting,” Jesus replied.  “It didn’t look like anyone had hit it yet.  Furniture isn’t exactly a priority these days.”

“But here we are,” grumbled Daryl, parking next to the furniture store.

“Here we are,” Jesus agreed, smiling.  “It may not be a priority, Daryl, but the people at Alexandria will be glad to have beds again.  And it’ll be a victory of sorts.  The Saviors can take our things, but things can be replaced, and they didn’t beat us down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daryl grumbled again as they got out.  He waited for Tobin to park the other truck before going over to the storefront and banging sharply on the window.

He counted the walkers that were drawn to the noise.  “Looks like maybe a dozen,” he said.

“We can handle that,” said Scott, getting out of the passenger side of Tobin’s truck.

“We let ‘em out a few at a time,” Daryl said.  “Once they’re down, we clear the buildin’ and then we’ll load up.”

Once the walkers had been put down and the building cleared, they started piling mattresses and bed frames onto the trucks.  Daryl found Jesus staring at an enormous four poster bed and just shook his head.

“No,” he said, pointing his finger at Jesus.  “Too big.”

“It is big,” Jesus said with a wink, “but think of how much _fun_ you could have in a bed like that.”

“No,” Daryl said again, walking away.  Jesus had been making jokes about what could be done in beds since they left Alexandria.  He could hear him laughing as he headed for another stack of mattresses.  It was driving him crazy.  “Smartass,” he muttered as he pulled another mattress down and loaded it on the furniture dolly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ a bed.  He just didn’t think it was that important right now.  He’d probably sleep better if he had a bed – not that he’d admit that to the little smartass currently rummaging through the manager’s office.

“Jackpot!” Jesus yelled, breaking into his train of thought.

“What?” Tobin asked, rushing over to the office with Scott and Daryl following.

“The manager here must have been really paranoid,” Jesus said, stepping back to reveal a safe with several handguns and boxes of ammo.  “There’s a sawed off shotgun and ammo for that, too,“ he said, pointing at a hidey hole he’d found.  “And a couple of fully loaded first aid kits.”

“Probably started stockpiling when it all started,” said Scott.  “A lot of people did.”

“That’s a win for us,” said Jesus.  “Not a total waste of time, right Daryl?”

“Smartass,” Daryl muttered again and went back to loading mattresses with Jesus’ laughter ringing in his ears.

They found enough mattresses to replace all the ones the Saviors had taken as well as some bedding.  Daryl had to admit that he liked the camouflage set that Jesus found.  Tobin’s truck was filled first so he and Scott headed back to Alexandria.  Jesus wanted to check for other offices or employee lockers to see if they could find anything else that would be useful.  They didn’t find any more guns, but there was bottled water, some snack foods, another first aid kit, and even a couple of bottles of antibiotics.

“At least we got somethin’ useful out of this trip,” Daryl said, checking one of the handguns while Jesus put the rest of the supplies on the truck.

“You like the camo bed – ” Jesus started to say, laughing as he shut the door, revealing the walker standing behind it.

“Look out!”

It happened quick.  Daryl had barely finished yelling when Jesus snapped his elbow back into the walker’s head and followed with a spinning kick to push the walker away.  Daryl rushed over to stab it in the head with his knife.

“Are you okay?” he said, breathing heavily.  “Why didn’t you just stab it in the head?”

“No time to get to my knives,” Jesus said, shakily.  “It was just there.”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” Daryl growled, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.  He couldn’t stop seeing that walker just inches from taking a bite out of Jesus.  His chest felt tight, his hands still shaking.

“I’m fine,” Jesus said, taking a cautious step towards Daryl.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, taking deep breaths.  “Got lucky.”

“Daryl,” he said, “I can take care of myself.  Just because I let you punch me before – “

“Let me?” Daryl growled, indignant.  “ _Let_ me?”

“I just meant – “

“You think just ‘cause you know some fancy moves, I can’t take you?”

“That’s not what – “

“Come on then, we’ll settle it.”  Daryl dropped into a fighting stance with a smirk.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Jesus said.

“What, you scared?“ Daryl asked, circling around Jesus.

Jesus was torn between amusement that Daryl was so competitive and arousal at the sight of him stalking him, muscles flexed.  “Daryl, come on,” he tried again.  “I was only – “

Daryl feigned a punch, and Jesus automatically brought his arms up to block.  Then he found himself flat on his back when Daryl tackled him and pinned him down with his forearm across his throat.

“Gotcha,” Daryl said in a low voice.

Jesus couldn’t respond.  Daryl’s tackle had winded him, but the intensity in those blue eyes took his breath away completely.  He could feel their bodies pressed together, heat pumping off Daryl’s like a furnace.  It was too much.  He looked over Daryl’s shoulder to try to get himself under control.

Daryl stared into Jesus’ eyes and felt a sense of déjà vu that sent his pulse racing and his stomach quivering.  Something was trying to push through – it was just on the edge of his memory.  Then he felt Jesus’ hand slide down his hip, and he went rigid, the memory evaporating as if it never existed.

“Duck,” Jesus whispered, revealing Daryl’s gun.

Daryl didn’t question it.  He pressed his face into Jesus neck as he fired the gun.  He heard the slump of body hitting the ground, and Jesus breathed a sigh of relief.  He got up slowly and looked over at the walker Jesus had killed.

“Thanks,” he said, awkwardly.  “Um … that’s my gun.”

Jesus handed it over and raised his eyebrows.  “Best not to try anything,” he quipped, happy that Daryl hadn’t punctuated his statement with a fist to the face this time.

“Best not to make threats you can’t keep either,” Daryl grumbled, nudging Jesus aside and getting into the truck.

“Exactly,” Jesus said, smiling as he joined Daryl in the truck.

The ride home was a lot quieter with both men lost in thought.  Jesus could still feel the heat of Daryl’s body pressed against his and the intensity of his stare.  He couldn’t help but wonder if Daryl had felt what he did in that moment.  But he was afraid to ask.

Daryl knew he had overreacted, but he kept seeing that walker going after Jesus, and it was twisting him up.  What if Jesus hadn’t been fast enough?  What if he hadn’t been able to get to them in time?  And it was pointless to keep asking those questions, he told himself.  Jesus had been fast enough, and he’d killed the walker.  And Jesus had killed the next one before it got close to them.  Nobody got bit.   Nobody was hurt.  As he calmed down, he smirked.  They were even on the walkers, but at least he’d taken Jesus down.  _Let me punch him, right._

“Can’t you just let that go?” Jesus asked, sighing.

Daryl just glared at Jesus in response.  He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud.

“I just meant that I didn’t want to fight.  Not then and not now.”

“Okay,” Daryl shrugged it off.  “But I still took you down.”

“The walker distracted me,” Jesus said, unable to resist teasing Daryl.  “I think we might be pretty evenly matched though.  You may not know martial arts, but you’re strong and muscular.  And you’ve got good instincts.  It might be interesting to have a real sparring match – somewhere safe where walkers won’t be a distraction,” he added with a grin.

Daryl squirmed a bit in the seat.  He never knew how to respond when people complimented him.  “I just do what needs to be done,” he muttered.

“Is that a no?” Jesus asked, his eyes twinkling.

“You’re on,” Daryl retorted, unable to resist the challenge.  “Where’d you learn all that?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.

It was as good an opening as any, Jesus decided.  “Growing up in a group home and being gay, I found it necessary to learn how to defend myself so I took classes at the local YMCA.”

Daryl glanced over, his eyes narrowed.  Jesus fought not to squirm as he waited for Daryl to say something.  _Anything._

“Some people are assholes,” Daryl finally muttered, looking back at the road.

Jesus blinked in surprise at the unexpected response.  He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disappointed that it didn’t seem to matter to Daryl that he was gay.  He could only nod in agreement, words failing him for once.

“My brother was an asshole,” Daryl said quietly.  “And the old man.  They were doin’ a good job of makin’ me an asshole before the end.”

“You’re not,” Jesus began, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Sometimes,” Daryl said with a shrug, “but not over stuff like that.  Not anymore anyway.”  He shrugged again.  “But that ain’t gettin’ you outta helpin’ to unload the truck,” he added with a smirk.

“But I so enjoy watching you lift heavy things,” Jesus said, batting his eyes at Daryl.  “The way your muscles flex and you get all sweaty and … _hot_.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes again, and Jesus wondered if he might have made a mistake, but then Daryl just shook his head.  “Pervert.”

Since it was spoken without rancor, Jesus relaxed and laughed.  All things considered, he thought this was a very good first step.  “Don’t worry, Daryl.  I only have eyes for you."

Daryl kept his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.  “You know, leavin’ you up a tree is still an option.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, they set to work putting together the new beds.  Daryl could hear Rick and Carl across the hall, arguing over the best place to put Carl’s new bed.  Rick’s bed and the guest room were finished.  Michonne was putting the bedding on them now.  Daryl tightened the last screw in the bedframe and stepped over to help Jesus maneuver the box springs and mattress in place.  Jesus produced the camo bed set with a flourish, smiling.  Daryl had to admit it looked pretty good once they had the bed made.

Jesus sat on the side of the bed and gave it a testing bounce.  “Nice,” he said patting the spot next to him.  “Wanna try it out?”

Daryl could feel the heat flooding his face and cursed inwardly.  He knew Jesus was just teasing, but there was something … he just couldn’t put his finger on it.  Deliberately, he sat on the opposite side of the bed from Jesus.  He didn’t miss the smirk on Jesus’ face.  Setting his teeth, he laid back and stretched out.  “It’ll do,” he said.

Jesus stretched out beside him and crossed his feet.  “Try to contain your enthusiasm, Daryl,” he said with a wink.  “I might get the wrong idea.”

Daryl snorted.  “You get ideas all on your own.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” Jesus said, dramatically laying one hand over his chest.  “But I’ll win you over eventually.”

“You just want me to get more coffee,” Daryl said, deciding to play along.  _What the hell._   If Jesus could joke around, so could he.

“Well, of course,” Jesus said brightly, enjoying this playful side of Daryl.  “But the muscles don’t hurt.”

“Well, this looks cozy."

Daryl looked over to see Rick leaning against the doorway, chuckling.  He shrugged.  “It was your idea to get beds.”

Rick just smiled.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Daryl this relaxed, and it was good to hear him joking around.  He looked over at Jesus.  “Just so you know, he snores,” he said, nodding towards Daryl.  He dodged the pillow Daryl threw at him and went back to his room, laughing.

Jesus didn’t want the fun to end, but it was getting late, and he didn’t think Daryl’s playfulness would extend to a sleepover.  “I suppose that’s my cue to try out my own bed,” he said.  “Good night, sweet prince!” he said, dramatically bowing and blowing a kiss from the doorway.

“You were on my side of the bed anyway,” Daryl said, getting up and nudging Jesus into the hall.

“I’ll remember that … for the next time.”

“Good night, Jesus,” Daryl said, retrieving the pillow he’d tossed at Rick and closing the door.

Jesus slipped into his own bed in the guest room, still smiling.  It had been a good day, and he felt almost giddy.  He still didn’t have all the answers he wanted, but for the first time, he felt like their might be some hope.

Daryl stripped down, letting his clothes lay wherever they dropped, and climbed into bed.  He didn’t snuggle, but he had to admit to himself that it did feel good to have a bed again.  He pulled the covers over him, enjoying the scent of clean sheets and … something earthy and a bit musky.  _Jesus._   He drifted off to sleep, enveloped by Jesus’ scent and slid into dreams of blue eyes, twinkling mischievously.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Jesus get to know each other and grow closer during the war with Negan and the Saviors.

Jesus jumped off Daryl’s motorcycle and ran for the door of the warehouse.  He held it open while Daryl rode the motorcycle in and then shut it quickly.  Daryl had already cut the engine on the bike and was looking for something to barricade the door.  They heard the walkers hit the building just as the door was secured.  Breathless, Jesus sank to the floor with his back against the wall and closed his eyes.  Daryl joined him, and they just sat there for a minute, catching their breath. 

“That was a close one.  Do you think the truck got through?”

“Yeah,” Daryl responded.  “Most of the herd followed us.”

“Lucky us,” Jesus deadpanned. 

Daryl snorted.  “Lucky for them anyway.  They’ll get the metal plates to Alexandria.”

“Meanwhile, we’re stuck here.”

“The herd’ll wander off eventually.” 

“I’m supposed to take Maggie back to The Hilltop tomorrow,” Jesus said, feeling a bit guilty because he wasn’t entirely disappointed with how things were turning out. 

“We’ll make it,” Daryl said, getting up and taking a look around.  “We oughta check this place out.  Might be somethin’ we can use.”

After securing the building and checking for any useful supplies, they opted to set up their makeshift camp on the second level.  If the walkers did manage to get in, that would give them a better chance to escape.  There wasn’t much left to find, but some canned goods and a water cooler ensured that they would at least have food and drink.  Jesus laid out the meal of Vienna sausages, sardines, ravioli, and peaches with a flourish.

“Not too bad for our second date,” he said with a wink. 

Daryl narrowed his eyes.  “When did we have a first date?”

“The cookout the other day.  You invited me so I was your date for the event.”

“Everybody went to that,” Daryl huffed.  “Easiest way to feed all the people from different communities.”

“First dates in a group setting can be less awkward.  That was very smart of you.”

Daryl snorted a laugh.  “I don’t think ‘Let’s go eat’ counts as a date.”

“On the contrary,” Jesus retorted with a smile.  “It was an invitation to share a meal and spend time together.  And I had a very good time, so thank you.”

Daryl figured there had to be a hole in there somewhere, but damned if Jesus didn’t make it hard to find it.  “And now?”

“We’re making the best of a bad situation.  Sharing a meal, conversation,” he lit a candle and winked, “mood lighting.”

“How does it count as dating if we haven’t kissed?”  Daryl blurted out and then froze, staring at his can of sardines, unable to look Jesus in the eye.  He didn’t know why he’d said that – didn’t know where the thought had come from.

Jesus was stunned but recovered quickly as the silence started to become awkward.  “I’m not that kind of guy,” he said with mock horror, relieved that Daryl visibly relaxed at the teasing tone.  “That’s for the third date,” he added, smirking. 

Daryl pushed it aside, reminding himself that they were just joking around.  Jesus enjoyed teasing him, and it had become a kind of routine between them.  Just for fun and laughs.

“You’re nuts,” Daryl said, his lips twitching.

“I’m hopeful,” Jesus corrected with a grin.  “Anyway, now that we’re dating …” He took a bite of a Vienna sausage as Daryl laughed.  “We should get to know each other better.”

It didn’t escape Jesus’s attention that Daryl started to tense up again so he picked a question that he hoped would put Daryl at ease.  “Why do you call Judith, L’il Asskicker?”

Daryl blinked in surprise.  He’d expected something more personal.  “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”  He shrugged.  “She survived when she shouldn’t’ve.”

“She’s a symbol of hope,” Jesus said quietly.  “For all of you.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“That’s a wonderful thing.”  Jesus paused, momentarily mesmerized by the site of Daryl licking sauce off his fingers before reaching in the tin for another sardine.  He fought back images of what else Daryl could do with his talented tongue and, almost desperately, grasped at another topic of conversation.

“Where’d you learn to track and hunt so well?” 

Daryl licked more sauce from his thumb, lost in thought so he didn’t hear the soft moan Jesus tried to restrain.  “My uncle,” he said finally. 

Jesus waited a beat, two. Three. “Really, Daryl, must you go on and on, boring me with details?”

Daryl narrowed his eyes, but his lips twitched.  “He used to take me and Merle huntin’.  It was … an escape, I guess.” 

“God, do you ever shut up?” Jesus demanded when Daryl fell silent again. “It’s all talk, talk, talk with you.”

Daryl snorted a laugh.  “Yeah, I love the sound of my own voice.  Do you really wanna know all this?”

"Yes, I really want to know,” Jesus said, trying very hard to ignore Daryl sucking the sticky, sweet syrup from the peaches off his fingers.

“Not much to tell,” he said, shrugging.  “My old man wasn’t that interested in huntin’, and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in spendin’ time with me and Merle so Uncle Jess taught us.  He said if you're gonna do a thing, you might as well do it right.  I had a knack for it … and you gotta eat,” he said shrugging again.  “He gave me my first crossbow,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“What happened to him?”

“Got bit.  Had to put him down.”  Daryl set aside the empty cans and took a long drink of water.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I didn’t get to do things like that at the group home,” Jesus said, deciding to change the subject.  “I was lucky to be able to swing lessons in martial arts at the YMCA.”

“What’s it like?” Daryl asked quietly.  He’d often wondered if things would have been better or worse for him if they’d taken him away from the old man.

"It wasn't such a bad deal. The home was clean, they fed us regular.  Three squares and a bed." He sighed. "But, you're a statistic, a number. A problem. And there are plenty of other statistics and numbers and problems to be shuffled around.  They strip you bare with good intentions. I’m sure that some of them probably really gave a damn, really tried to make a difference. But they were overworked and underpaid so sometimes you got lost in the shuffle.  It made it harder to get close to people – to want to – because everything felt so transient."

Daryl nodded.  He couldn’t say that sounded a lot better – some, but he knew that there were some scars that didn’t show.  Wanting to shake off the melancholy mood, he grinned at Jesus.

“So, I guess you never got to go on fancy dates like this back then?”

“No,” said Jesus, laughing.  “You are one of a kind, Daryl Dixon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the topmost windows at Barrington House, Jesus looked down at the Hilltop.  He saw Maggie talking to a group of people, pointing towards the blacksmith.  Organizing the troops, he thought with a smile.  It wasn’t really official but, as far as everyone was concerned, Maggie was the leader at The Hilltop now.  Gregory was still missing, and that worried him.  They didn’t know where he had gone or what he might be telling the Saviors.  They were preparing to attack Negan’s compound tomorrow, but they had to be ready if Negan got the jump on them.

He scanned out over the horizon.  From here, he could see for miles in any direction so they would know if anyone was coming.  But he couldn’t see as far as he’d like.  Alexandria was too far away to be seen.  They had only left that morning, but he already missed it.  He laughed at himself.  He missed Daryl – had started missing him almost as soon as the gates of Alexandria had closed behind them.  It was foolish because he would see Daryl tomorrow, but he wanted more than just a glimpse of Daryl across the battlefield. 

He wanted those chaotic mornings, lingering over a cup of coffee with the family surrounding them.  He wanted quiet evenings, the two of them snuggling in alone.  He wanted days filled with laughter and joy or even arguments.  He wanted life.  Not just to survive, to get through each day still breathing at the end of it, but to live and look to the future.  To build something.  And he wanted all of that with Daryl. 

He thought of their “date” the day before with a smile.  They had definitely made progress, and Daryl didn’t mind when he flirted, but he was certain that Daryl thought it was all teasing and joking.  Jesus wasn’t sure what would be the best way to let him know that he was serious.  Or even if he should.  He rested his forehead against the window and wished he knew if Daryl could ever feel the same. 

He left Barrington House and helped Maggie organize the weapons and the teams that had been chosen to attack the outposts.  They chose who would stay behind with Maggie to protect the Hilltop in case of an attack.  The rest of them would head out in the morning, and the next few days would be devoted to fighting and, hopefully, to ending Negan and the Saviors once and for all.  When they broke for lunch, Maggie followed Jesus into the trailer and started heating up some soup.

His pack sat in the corner.  He hadn’t bothered to unpack it – hadn’t seen much point when he dropped it there that morning since they would be leaving again tomorrow.  But he thought now that it might be good to switch out for fresh clothes.  He opened the pack, vaguely thinking about what he might need over the next few days, and a package fell out onto his bed. 

“What’s that?” Maggie asked, looking over his shoulder.

“I don’t know.”  He opened the package and stared at the simple brown bag for a moment, blinking.  “It’s coffee,” he murmured, voice softening.

Maggie looked at the package.  “Who’s it from?”

Jesus already knew but searched the pack anyway.  There was no note. _Wasn’t that just like him?_   He sat there, holding it with a foolish smile.  He couldn’t say why, but the fact that Daryl had slipped the coffee into his pack as a surprise instead of just giving it to him made it feel more special. 

Maggie grinned and nudged Jesus’s shoulder.  “Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer.”

Jesus didn’t answer.  He didn’t think Daryl intended the gift to be interpreted as anything but a private joke between the two of them.  Still, his heart felt lighter as he took the coffee to his little kitchenette, already anticipating his first cup in the morning.  Maybe he wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with Daryl as he’d like over the next few days.  But knowing that Daryl had thought of him and wanted to surprise him with something he liked made that easier to bear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Jesus was savoring his first cup of coffee the next morning, Daryl fueled up his motorcycle, feeling a low-grade urge for a cigarette.  He hadn’t been able to find any on the last supply run and he’d smoked his last one when he woke up.  But that’s how things were now, and he’d gone without before.  He ignored the urge and concentrated on checking over his bike and making sure he had everything he needed. 

He opened the canvas bag under the seat, intending to stash extra ammo and water there, and just stared at the carton of cigarettes hidden inside for a minute.  His eyes narrowed.  Wary of some kind of trap, he carefully pulled it out.  But it was just a carton of cigarettes with a note scribbled on the side.

_It starts with a spark and the promise to fan the flames_

_xxx ooo xxx_

_Jesus_

Daryl rolled his eyes at the note, but he felt a warmth spreading through his chest.  He couldn’t help but grin as he opened a pack and lit a cigarette.  _Sneaky little prick_ , he thought affectionately as he took a deep drag.  He put the carton back in the canvas bag, the open pack in his pocket, and loaded up the rest of his supplies, vaguely wondering if Jesus considered gifts part of them “dating”.  Probably, he thought with a chuckle.

It had been a little surprising to realize he missed Jesus.  He’d gotten used to the jokes and teasing.  Even had some fun teasing Jesus in return.  They had fun together.  The night before, he’d lain in bed awake for a while before realizing he’d been waiting for Jesus to poke his head in to say good night.  It had become routine, he told himself.  It had taken him longer to fall asleep, but he figured that was normal with all the preparations for the attack circling in his mind. 

If he’d dreamed, he didn’t remember it.  He’d woken feeling rested and wanting a cigarette.  Nothing out of the ordinary for him.  He’d caught himself waiting for Jesus to come down to breakfast before remembering that he’d left the day before.  Just more routine, he thought.  He’d gotten used to Jesus being around.  They’d gone on several runs together and he thought they made a good team.  Jesus liked to joke around, but when they were out in the open, he paid attention and he was good in a fight.  He knew how to be quiet – you’d never know he was there if you weren’t looking at him. 

They’d see each other today anyway, he thought.  If not during the attack, then at the camp afterward.  Daryl didn’t let himself think about all the things that could go wrong or the possibility that they might not see each other if one of them were killed today.  The thought made his chest feel tight so he pushed it aside.  They’d win this, and he’d thank Jesus for the cigarettes at the camp. 

He looked around, checking the line of cars and watching everyone finish loading up.  He saw Rick give the signal and followed the line of cars out the gates. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The camp was crowded and noisy with everyone talking about the attack.  Negan and the Saviors at the Sanctuary were trapped – surrounded by a massive herd of walkers they had gathered up and lured there.  In the morning, the chosen teams would separate and begin attacking the outposts.  If all went well, this war would be over soon.

Jesus wandered around, trying to look nonchalant as he scanned the crowd for a head of dark, shaggy hair.  He’d only spotted Daryl once during the attack – he’d looked magnificent riding into the Sanctuary ahead of that massive herd of walkers.  But there had been too much going on to keep track of him.  He thought he’d heard the motorcycle a few minutes ago, but he hadn’t seen any sign of Daryl. 

“Hey.”

Jesus jumped and nearly stumbled at the sound of Daryl’s voice behind him, but Daryl caught him around the waist before he fell so the quickening of his heartbeat was due to more than just relief.

“Sorry,” Daryl said, sounding more amused than concerned.  “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jesus nodded, focusing on keeping his breathing steady and even.  “It’s okay.  There’s a lot of people here.”

“Been lookin’ for you.”  Daryl lit a cigarette and waved it towards Jesus.  “Wanted to say thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Jesus responded, smiling.  “I wanted to thank you too.  For the coffee,” he added.

Daryl shrugged.  “We had extra.” 

They started walking around the camp, catching little snippets of conversations about the battle around them, but otherwise silent.  Daryl found himself relaxing for the first time since he’d rode his bike into the camp.  He couldn’t say why, but seeing Jesus had unloosened a band of tension around his chest that he hadn’t been aware of until it was gone. 

Aaron watched Daryl and Jesus walking, a thoughtful expression on his face.  Eric handed him a plate and looked over to see what Aaron was staring at.  He grinned at Aaron.

“Do I get to say ‘I told you so’ yet?”

“I’m not sure,” Aaron responded.  “They have been spending a lot of time together, but …”

“Daryl seems almost oblivious,” Eric finished.  “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure either, but I’m getting the vibe.”

They watched as Daryl lightly punched Jesus in the shoulder over something he said and heard Jesus respond as they walked past where he and Eric were sitting.

“Please, Daryl, these public displays of affection must stop. I have a reputation.”

“Keep it up, smartass, and I’ll give you a public display of _affection_ that’ll have you limpin'.”

“Now I'm excited.”

"Bite me."

Though Aaron managed to swallow a chuckle at Daryl’s annoyed response, he didn't quite make it over Jesus’s cheerful, "Where?”

Eric just grinned.  “Oh, yes.  Definitely getting that vibe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl parked his motorcycle in front of the house and grabbed his gear.  He was tired, filthy, and wanted nothing more than to put this day behind him.  They had trapped Negan at the Sanctuary and taken out all of the outposts, but they had a lot of casualties.  Good people had died for this.  And it still wasn’t over.  Negan might be trapped at the moment, but they were still going to have to deal with him and the Saviors at the Sanctuary.  As well as any Saviors that had escaped. 

They also had to figure out how to get Dr. Carson out of there – assuming he was still alive.  And now there was a chance that Gabriel was being held prisoner as well.  Daryl figured Dr. Carson would be okay – at least for the time being – because he was a doctor.  Since Negan had killed his brother, there was no longer a “spare” Dr. Carson.  Gabriel, on the other hand – Daryl didn’t want to think about it.  He knew what being Negan’s prisoner was like.  He just hoped Gabriel could handle it.

Fatigue and frustration weighed on him as the climbed the steps to the porch.  Memories flowed into his mind, unwanted and unwelcome.  Eating dog food, naked and filthy in that dark box of a cell.  Pain everywhere – burning in his shoulder where Dwight had shot him, the dull ache in his face from the beating he’d took from the Saviors, even the stinging in his feet from being forced to walk around barefoot.  It all came flooding back, leaving him feeling raw and edgy.

“Daryl?”

That voice came flooding back as well.  He’d heard it underneath the rage that had filled him, under the crunch and squish of the Savior he’d beat to death.  It had brought him back to himself then, just as it did now.  He turned to see Jesus looking at him with concern. 

“Hey.”

“Are you all right?”  Jesus wanted to wrap his arms around Daryl, to soothe away whatever had put that look on his face.  But he didn’t think Daryl was ready for that kind of comfort.

“Yeah,” Daryl shrugged and tried to shake off the tension banding in his shoulders.  “Just tired.”  He leaned against the porch rail and stared at his boots.  “Rick thinks Negan has Gabriel.”

Jesus realized that was what had Daryl so worked up.  It hadn’t been that long ago and he’d been there, at the end of it, to see the impact being Negan’s prisoner had on Daryl.  An idea came to him.  He wasn’t sure how much it would help, but he didn’t think it would hurt. 

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and meet me in the basement,” he said.  “I’ve got something to show you.”

Daryl looked down at himself, prepared to object on principle, but he had to admit he was a mess.  Blood and God only knew what else was spattered all over him.  And the memories just made him feel even filthier.  He nodded and went upstairs without speaking.  Jesus watched him go and waited until he heard the shower before heading to the basement.

Twenty minutes later, Daryl made his way down to the basement to find Jesus kneeling over a grouping of mattresses.  He’d pulled his hair up into a kind of bun, a few tendrils escaping to brush the creamy skin of his neck.  Wary, Daryl narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out what he was doing.  “What’s this?”

Jesus turned his head and smiled at him.  “A makeshift mat.”

For a moment, Daryl was confused, but then he remembered.  “You wanna spar now?”

“Sometimes a good, sweaty workout helps me burn off whatever’s bothering me.”  Jesus shrugged.  “I thought it might help, but it’s up to you.”

“What the hell,” Daryl shrugged in response.  “Ain’t got nothin’ better to do.”

Jesus grinned, and they crouched, circling each other. Daryl feinted; Jesus stepped in. For ten interesting seconds, they grappled, hands sliding off slick skin. Daryl’s quick leg hook would have worked if he hadn't anticipated and gone in low. Using leverage and a quick twist of his body, he flipped Daryl over.

Daryl pushed himself up, eyes narrowed, considering.  They circled each other again.  Jesus didn't try to punch him; he'd be expecting that. Instead, he hooked his foot behind Daryl’s, angling for a takedown. Which he countered, so momentum took them both down.

Daryl tried to turn, take the brunt of the impact, but they both crashed, hard enough to jar bones in spite of the mattresses. Jesus scissored his legs, tried a roll that would've landed an elbow in Daryl’s gut, but he was slippery and blocked it.

Daryl used his superior weight and almost had Jesus pinned. But he was slippery himself and slid clear.  They grappled, rolling over and off the mattresses, each willing to take or give a few bruises, until Daryl did manage to pin him.

Their eyes met, Jesus’s twinkling with amusement, and Daryl once again felt that sense of déjà vu that left his stomach quivering.  Jesus took advantage of the momentary distraction to reverse their positions, pinning Daryl with his forearm to his throat.

His hair had come loose and fell to curtain their faces. Breath came fast, and their hearts beat like war drums against each other.  Daryl stared into those clear blue eyes, feeling the heat of their bodies, and something fluttering around the edge of his mind, trying to push through. 

The explosion rocked the foundation of the house, causing them both to jump up and run outside to the street.

“Shit.”

Negan had gotten out, Daryl realized as he ran toward the gate with Jesus right behind him.  Alexandria was under attack. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl woke in the dark, his throat burning with thirst and hurting all over.  There was a terrible moment when he’d thought he’d gone blind, but when he tried to sit up, he saw a shadow move.

"No, shh. Lie still. I'm right here."

At the sound of Jesus’s voice, Daryl relaxed.  “Where …,” he rasped and started to cough, the movement lighting little fires of pain down his side.

“Here now, shh.”  Jesus sat on the side of the bed and gently raised Daryl’s head so he could sip some water.  “Go slow.  You’ve been out for a while.” 

The cool water felt like heaven on his parched throat.  When he’d finished, Jesus gently lowered his head and got up to turn on a lamp.  In the dim light, Daryl recognized Jesus’s trailer and saw that he was wearing a heavy brace on his right leg as he limped back to the bed.  “What happened?”

Jesus awkwardly lowered himself into the chair he’d dragged over next to the bed and sighed.  “It’s over.  Negan’s dead.  Some of the Saviors surrendered right away, but a lot of them just scattered.  Rick, Maggie, and Ezekiel are discussing plans to track them, hopefully take them out so they won’t be a threat anymore.”

Daryl nodded and watched as Jesus laid his head back and closed his eyes.  He sounded so tired.  “What happened to you?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“Saw you get surrounded by a bunch of ‘em,” Daryl said, remembering the feeling of panic and fighting his way through.  “One of ‘em had you down, with a knife…”

“I wrenched my knee when they took me down,” Jesus said, recounting the fight for Daryl.  It had happened fast during the final moments of the battle.  They had overwhelmed him and something had struck him hard on the back of his head.  When he closed his eyes, he could still see that savior poised over him with a knife.  He’d thought that was the end, but then the savior had collapsed with an arrow through his head.  The last thing he remembered before blacking out was hearing what sounded like a wolf, that howl of rage, a blood cry.  Then Daryl was there, fighting furiously through the Saviors surrounding him. 

“I woke up in the infirmary we set up at Barrington House,” Jesus continued.  “Maggie filled me in on the rest.  You were stabbed, but Tara and Eric got to us and helped you kill the Saviors.  They got some others to help get us to the infirmary.  Luckily, Eugene showed up with Dr. Carson.”

“Eugene?”  Daryl interrupted.  “That son of a bitch sided with Negan.”

“I don’t know the whole story,” Jesus said, trying to stretch his leg out to get more comfortable.  “But apparently, there was more going on there.  Eugene helped Dr. Carson escape, and they came here.  Just in time.  Dr. Carson was able to stop the bleeding and stitch you up, treat your other injuries.”

Jesus paused, remembering how helpless he had felt, watching from his cot while Dr. Carson had treated Daryl, seeing the blood dripping from his wound over the edge of the cot and onto the floor.  He’d been terrified that Daryl wouldn’t make it, but he’d pulled through.  They’d moved Daryl to his trailer so he could rest comfortably, and he’d stayed to take care of him. 

“You should be restin' too,” Daryl rasped. 

“Enid’s been helping,” Jesus said, moving back to the side of the bed to give Daryl more water.  “I’m fine.  I had a concussion, but that’s better now.  The knee hurts, but Dr. Carson said I can take this contraption off in a couple of days.  You were hurt a lot worse.  Jammed shoulder, bruised ribs, and the stab wound …” He broke off, and took a trembling breath.

"I’ve been better, but, hell, we won."  Daryl struggled to sit up.

“Careful,” Jesus admonished, gently.  “You don’t want to tear out the stitches.”

“I just wanna sit up.”

“I need to change your bandage first,” Jesus said, pulling a box out from under the bed.  “Dr. Carson said to keep the wound clean and use this ointment.  I’m going to help you roll over on your side, okay?”

“Why can’t Dr. Carson do it?” Daryl asked, tensing up.

“Because it’s two in the morning, and he’s been running himself ragged treating everyone who was wounded in the battle.  I can handle changing your bandage.”

Daryl still didn’t move, and Jesus realized that he wasn’t worried about the bandage.  He’d seen the scars on Daryl’s back before, but it didn’t seem like Daryl was aware of that.  A choice had to be made. Plow in or step back.  Jesus decided to do neither.  He braced himself on the chair and smiled.  “I realize that we’re dating and all, but I think I can control myself long enough to change your bandage.”

There was a blink, then two.  “What – ”

“Not that it’s not tempting – you’re all sexy and rumpled, practically naked in my bed – but you’re injured.”  He flashed a wicked grin.  “I can wait.”

There was a tremble along the jaw that rippled into a reluctant smile.  “You’re still nuts.”

“Maybe so, but that bandage needs to be changed.  Come on, let’s get you rolled over.”

Daryl shifted so he could help him roll onto his side.  Jesus constantly surprised him.  He did know that Jesus had seen the scars before – and he had to have seen them when they moved him to this bed.  What Daryl didn’t understand was why he never asked about them – never said anything about them, for that matter. 

Daryl jerked at the first touch of fingertips tugging at the medical tape on his skin, at the soft cloth gently wiping around the wound.  He felt Jesus’s gentle fingers smoothing something cool and slick over it, then the spread of warmth along his side.  He lay still while Jesus put a fresh bandage on and smoothed tape around the edges.

“There,” Jesus said, helping him roll over to his back again.  “All done.  That wasn’t so bad.  Are your ribs or your shoulder bothering you?  Dr. Carson left some ointment that should help with the pain.”

Daryl just nodded and closed his eyes as Jesus slicked more ointment over his shoulder and his ribs, a tingling sensation seeming to follow wherever his fingers touched.  Jesus’s hair brushed over his chest, but it felt familiar, comforting.  He nearly moaned at the loss of contact when Jesus pulled away.

Jesus kept his back to Daryl while he wiped the ointment from his hands.  Seeing the knife wound brought it all back – the fear and panic, seeing Daryl’s blood dripping on the floor.  He needed a minute to calm himself.  

“You never ask,” Daryl said quietly, eyes still closed.

Jesus didn’t bother to feign ignorance.  “I don’t need to.  I grew up in a group home, remember?  I don’t remember if it ever happened to me,” he said, anticipating the question.  “I was too young.  But I knew other kids who did so I understand.  You don’t have to tell me.”

Daryl could only nod.  When he felt Jesus slip his hand around his fingers, he held on, taking slow breaths.  The bed dipped as Jesus sat next to him and put his other arm around his shoulders, resting his cheek on top of Daryl’s head.  Daryl just leaned closer, breathed in that earthy scent, and allowed himself to be comforted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of a mixed bag because I wanted to get through the All Out War plot before really getting into Daryl and Jesus developing a romantic relationship. I've tried to balance the drama and humor - and I've skipped over pretty much all of the war because we don't know exactly what the show will do with that. In the comic, it only lasted a few days so I'm following that for this story. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I plan on getting to the good stuff from this point forward.
> 
> ETA - Yes, I had them kill Negan. I never found it believable for Rick not to kill him in the comic and I find it even less believable for the show. So Negan is dead in my version.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension builds between Daryl and Jesus until Jesus reacts impulsively.

The next few days passed uneventfully.  Repairs were underway at Alexandria and the Hilltop.  Patrols and watch shifts had been doubled in case any of the surviving Saviors who had escaped tried to attack.  Groups were being sent out in shifts to search for them, but none had been found yet.  Rick and Ezekiel had led other groups to the Sanctuary and the outposts to recover supplies stolen from Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom.  The workers living at the Sanctuary that had been exploited by Negan were given the option of living at any of the other communities.  Things were gradually getting back to normal.

Daryl struggled not to resent the fact that he wasn’t able to take part in any of it.  Logically, he knew that he needed time to heal, but he wanted to be out there hunting down the remaining Saviors.  He wanted to help protect his family.  Having to stay in bed all the time was frustrating.  He looked over at Jesus.  He was stretched out on the sofa with his leg propped up, calmly reading a book.  Daryl watched as he tucked his hair behind his ears.

“How do you stand it?”

Jesus looked up, startled.  “Oh, you’re awake.  Are you in pain?  Dr. Carson left more pain pills.”

“Don’t want another pill,” Daryl grumbled.  “I’d rather be out with the group lookin’ for the Saviors.”

“So would I.”  Jesus marked his spot and set his book on the table.  “But that’s not an option right now.”  He stood up and did some lunging stretches.

“How’s the knee?”  Daryl asked, reminding himself that Jesus had done nothing but try to help.

“Stiff, but better.”  Jesus raised his injured leg to the table and bent over it in another stretch.  “Maggie’s bringing some clothes for you later so you can take a shower.”

“Not supposed to get the stitches wet,” Daryl muttered, shifting to try and get more comfortable.

“I’ve got some plastic wrap.  We’ll manage.”

“We?”  Daryl shifted again. 

“We,” Jesus confirmed.  “Unless you want Maggie to help you.”

Daryl just scowled and shifted again.

Jesus finished stretching and brought a pill and some water over to Daryl.  “Don’t be stubborn.  I can tell you’re hurting.” 

Daryl took the pill and continued to scowl.  “I’d rather do it myself.”

Jesus sat down in the chair next to the bed.  “We all need help sometimes.”

Daryl huffed out a breath.  “Just hate not bein’ able to do stuff myself.  Can’t even take a damn piss without you havin’ to help me out of this bed.”

“Just consider it daily hugs,” Jesus said, grinning and batting his eyes.  “That’s what I do.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes at Jesus, but he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.  “You would.  This doesn’t count as dates,” he added.

“Of course not,” Jesus said, unabashed.  “But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the perks.”

“Pervert.”

“And proud of it.”

Daryl laughed just as Maggie came in.  “Sounds like you’re feeling better,” she said with a smile, setting the laundry basket on the table. 

“Some,” Daryl said, accepting Maggie’s tight hug.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she admonished. 

“Don’t plan to.”

“Good.”  Maggie went back to the table and started taking things out of the laundry basket.  “I brought some clean clothes and linens.  I’m going to change the bed while you’re in the shower.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m going to anyway.  All right, let’s get you up, big guy.”

Jesus helped him sit up on the side of the bed and put his arms under Daryl’s.  Daryl wrapped his arms around his neck and pushed up with his legs while Jesus lifted him.  He whispered conspiratorially in Daryl’s ear, “This is one of the perks.”

Daryl chuckled, and Jesus tried to ignore the sensation of Daryl’s breath on his neck.  Holding Daryl close like this was definitely a perk but still torture.  He held on just a bit longer than necessary and hoped Daryl and Maggie wouldn’t notice.  He moved Daryl’s arm over his shoulders and helped him walk to the bathroom.

After removing Daryl’s bandage, he covered the wound with plastic wrap and taped it down to prevent water from getting to the wound.  He started the shower and helped Daryl strip down, trying to keep his eyes on Daryl’s face.  He couldn’t help but take a peek as he helped Daryl into the shower – in spite of his nickname, he was not a saint – but he resisted the urge to squeeze that well-sculpted ass. 

“Steady?” 

“Yeah,” Daryl said, relishing the hot water beating down on his stiff muscles.  “I got it.”

Jesus stepped back and pulled the curtain to give Daryl some privacy.  But his imagination tortured him while he watched Daryl’s shadow washing behind the curtain.  Definitely not a saint, he thought again, forcing himself to turn away. 

Daryl managed pretty well on his own, but he realized there was no way he could get his back.  Normally, he’d just reach around as high as he could and consider it done, but trying to do that now pulled on his stitches.  He considered just letting it go, but that would be cowardly.  Fuck it, he thought and, trying to make light of it, he pulled the curtain open a bit and threw the washcloth at Jesus. 

“Get my back,” he said, smirking at Jesus’s shocked expression.  “Consider it one of your perks.”

Jesus swallowed and took a deep breath.  He wanted to make a joke, but his brain fogged at the sight of Daryl, wet and slippery from the soap.  His pulse raced as he ran the washcloth over Daryl’s back, feeling the muscles ripple as Daryl braced himself on the wall. 

Daryl tried to focus on the cloth and not the hands using it.  He hadn’t anticipated how intimate this would be, but it wasn’t as awkward as he expected.  It was actually kind of nice.  Like a massage, he told himself.  It didn’t take long, but it felt like the moment spun out and stretched.  When Jesus reached around to hand him the washcloth, their fingers brushed.  The joke he had planned on making, vanished from his mind so he just quietly said, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jesus muttered, trying to get his brain back in gear.

Daryl rinsed off and wrapped the towel Jesus handed him around his waist so he didn’t feel so exposed.  Jesus helped him out of the shower and helped him dry off with a second towel.  Neither of them spoke.  As he removed the plastic wrap and gently wiped around the area of the wound, Jesus got himself under control and managed a grin as he handed the towel to Daryl.

“I don’t think my perks extend to … “  He glanced down.

“Definitely not.”  Daryl felt his face heat up and finished drying himself quickly.  Once he was dressed, things felt normal again.  He didn’t see any point in putting on a shirt since Jesus still had to put a fresh bandage on.  They made their way back to the bed.  Maggie had left, but as promised, there were clean sheets.  Jesus helped him back into bed and made quick work of bandaging his wound.  He had to admit that he felt better now that he was clean.

“Thanks.”

“All part of the service,” Jesus quipped, determined to keep things as light as he could.  “We’ll consider the perks payment.”

“You do that,” Daryl said, sleepily.  The pain pill Jesus had given him before had kicked in, and the exertion of getting to and from the bathroom had exhausted him.

Jesus tucked the covers around Daryl as his breathing evened out in sleep.  He couldn’t stop himself from brushing his fingers through Daryl’s damp hair.  He made himself go back to the sofa and propped his leg up with the cold pack Maggie had brought for him.  He didn’t bother getting his book.  His mind was too jumbled to try to concentrate.  Instead, he lay back and let himself dream of Daryl and a very different experience in the shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was rare for Daryl to think about sex, and he couldn’t remember ever dreaming about it.  Sex had never been a satisfactory experience for him, and he had long ago accepted that he didn’t have the same physical response as other people.  For a while, he had thought there was something wrong with him, but he’d sneaked to the library once and looked it up.  Finding out that there were other people who didn’t have the same kind of response or just didn’t like sex had been a relief.  Not that he’d ever shared that with Merle.  Some things were better kept to yourself. 

So it came as a shock when he woke in the middle of the night with a gasp, trembling with a raging hard on.  The details of the dream were already fading, but he could remember the sensations of being kissed, touching and being touched, being enveloped in warmth and wetness ….  And those thoughts weren’t helping.  The dream had been more intense than any of the real experiences he’d ever had with sex.  He glared at the tented covers like his penis was a traitor, unsure of how to handle this particular problem with Jesus sleeping on the sofa just a few feet away. 

After a few minutes, it became clear that just staring at his erection wasn’t going to make it go away.  The towel he’d used to dry his hair was still on the floor so he grabbed it and rolled over to face the wall.  He spread the towel out next to him and made sure he was well covered in case Jesus woke up.  He pulled the sweats down enough to free himself and, burying his face in the pillow to muffle any sound, started to stroke.  He thought about the dream, what he could remember of it, and just let the sensations take over.  He was good at being quiet – he’d had lots of practice at that growing up – but he couldn’t stop himself from crying out softly into the pillow as he came.

Afterward, he cleaned himself up with the towel and dropped it back on the floor.  He felt a little dizzy, and his heart was racing, but for the first time in his life, he thought he could understand why some people got so worked up over sex.  He couldn’t say why he’d had such a dream now or why it had affected him that way, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good.  He stared at the wall, so wrapped up in his thoughts as he drifted off to sleep that he didn’t notice the absence of Jesus’s usual light snoring or the light, rhythmic creaks of the sofa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks after they had won the war against the Saviors, Daryl was back at Alexandria, arguing with Rick.  He wanted to help track the Saviors that had escaped, but Rick wouldn’t hear of it.  He’d just gotten his stitches out, needed more time to heal, blah blah blah.  Daryl was tired of just sitting around.  He needed something to do. 

“There’s plenty to do around here,” said Rick, exasperatingly calm.  “We’re still reorganizing the pantry and armory.  You could help with that.”

“Are you shittin’ me?”

“No, it needs to be done.  We got everything back the Saviors took and then some.  Barbara is still setting up a system for inventory.  She could use the help.”

Daryl glowered at Rick.  He still didn’t budge.  “I hate this.”

“So do I, but we need you strong.  Dr. Carson put you on restrictions to make sure you heal.”  Rick put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder.  “We almost lost you.  I won’t risk that happening again, brother.”

Daryl’s anger deflated.  There was no argument he could make against that.  As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Rick was right. 

“Dr. Carson is coming back next week to follow up with you,” Rick continued.  “Just give it till then.  One more week, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now that we’ve got that settled,” Michonne said, setting plates on the table.  “Go wash up for dinner.  Jesus and Maggie will be back any minute.”

After dinner, Daryl stepped outside to smoke.  He made a point to never smoke around Judith, and he thought walking around might help his mood.  At least nobody was telling him to stay in bed anymore, he thought.  He wasn’t surprised when Jesus fell into step beside him.  They had spent so much time together while he was recuperating, he’d come to expect to see Jesus wherever he went.  That would change when he and Maggie returned to Hilltop tomorrow, which only made him more irritable.    

“You doing okay?” Jesus asked.

“I can walk,” Daryl snarled. 

“Obviously,” Jesus said, dryly.  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Sorry.  I’m just tired of being cooped up all the time.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You’ve been cleared,” Daryl huffed.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t understand.  Dr. Carson had me on restriction too.”

“You’re going out to search with the next group.”

“The day after tomorrow,” Jesus confirmed.

“You sure the knee will hold up?”

Jesus whipped around and executed a series of high kicks into the air.  “I think it’ll do.”

“Show off,” Daryl grumbled, but his lips twitched when Jesus gave an exaggerated, sweeping bow.

“I aim to please.”

“Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry, Daryl.  I’ll be back with Dr. Carson next week.”  Jesus looked up at Daryl from under his lashes with a sly smile.  “Maybe we should go ahead and plan that third date.”

Daryl snorted a laugh.  “Sure, why not?  You come back safe, and it’s your choice.”

“Really?”  Jesus drew the word out suggestively and grinned.  Daryl was just too adorable when he blushed that way.  “How about a movie?  You have a DVD player, right?”

“Yeah.  Not sure what kind of movies we got.”

“We’ll find something.  We can snuggle up on the couch and share popcorn.”

Daryl laughed, but his stomach quivered, and he decided he had walked long enough.  Rick was right.  He shouldn’t overdo it.  He turned to head back to the house with Jesus following. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Jesus indulged in a long, hot shower.  The showers were one of his favorite things about Alexandria.  So much better than his cramped little tub at the Hilltop.  Though he did have fond memories of Daryl thanks to his cramped shower space.  He sighed as he tilted his head back and let the powerful spray rinse the shampoo from his hair.  The past couple of weeks had been both amazing and stressful for him.  In some ways, he felt closer to Daryl than he had ever felt to anyone in his life.  In others, he still felt like they were as far apart as the moon because he just couldn’t be sure that Daryl felt the same way that he did. 

He was terrified of taking that next step and being rejected.  Not just being rejected but losing the friendship they had built.  He enjoyed the banter and the teasing – it allowed him to be honest without fear of driving Daryl away.  But they could also talk to each other about anything, and he didn’t want to lose that.  Well, almost anything, he admitted.  As long as his feelings were a secret, there were things he wouldn’t risk talking about. 

The more he learned about Daryl, the more he loved about him.  Behind that gruff exterior were deep pockets of kindness, generosity, vulnerability, and courage.  He was a man who could – and would – kill to protect those he loved without hesitation.  But he was also a man who would get down on the floor to play and be silly with Judith without embarrassment.  He was a man who would go to the trouble to find a can of orange soda just because a friend asked him to – and claim it was no trouble at all. 

In addition to being a good, honorable man, he was gorgeous.  Those intense blue eyes, broad chest, and muscular shoulders.  And now Jesus knew just what those muscles felt like rippling beneath his hands as he’d put ointment on his wounds or washed his back.  As he started to stroke himself, he could see Daryl perfectly in his mind, water and slippery soap pouring over his body.  He’d found a sensitive spot on the back on Daryl’s neck that had made him shiver when he brushed over it with a washcloth.  And another on his hip when he’d changed his bandages.  The temptation to just bite down and lick to see just how sensitive those spots were had been maddeningly difficult to ignore.   He’d thought he’d heard Daryl masturbating a few times over the past few weeks, and just the idea of that had him spilling over the edge.  But as his heartbeat settled, he admitted to himself that he just couldn’t be sure.  The man was too good at being quiet. 

Feeling more relaxed, if still confused, Jesus wrapped a towel around his hips and headed back to the guest room.  At the door, he froze and stepped to the side.  Daryl was sitting on his bed doing something to one of his boots.  Confused, he just watched as Daryl finished and set the boot back on the floor with its mate and stuck his knife back in its sheath.  Curious as to what Daryl was up to, Jesus entered the room and plastered a big grin on his face.

“Daryl Dixon waiting for me in my bed.  My dreams have come true.”

Daryl just laughed, too used to Jesus’s teasing by now to be embarrassed.  “Keep dreamin’.”

He wasn’t used to Jesus parading around in a towel though and made a point to stare at the floor while Jesus got dressed, apparently unconcerned about being completely naked in front of Daryl. 

“You’re breaking my heart, Daryl.”  Jesus gave an exaggerated sigh as he wiggled into a pair of pants. 

“We haven’t had that third date yet,” Daryl said, looking up with a grin now that Jesus had some clothes on. 

“Well, that gives me something to look forward to.”  Jesus grinned as he buttoned his shirt.  “If you’re not here to make my dreams come true, what’s up?

“Just wanted to give you this before you leave.”  Suddenly nervous and not really sure why, Daryl wiped his hands on his pants before picking up the package he had set on the table. 

“More coffee?”  Jesus batted his eyes.  “I could get used to this kind of courting.”

“We’ve got extra,” Daryl said, feeling his face heat up.  He decided not to mention that the extra was hidden in his closet.

“I appreciate it all the same.  I’ve got something for you too.”

Figuring it was probably more cigarettes, Daryl waited while Jesus rummaged through his pack.  He was surprised when Jesus gave him a couple of books. 

“You said that you liked to read, and I figured these could keep you occupied this week.”  Jesus smiled at Daryl’s confused look.  “I’d suggest starting with _White Fang_ , but _The Call of the Wild_ is very good too.  They’re about animals so I thought you would like them.”

“Thanks.”  Daryl looked at the covers and read the summary on the back.  “Looks good.  I’ll get out of your way so you can finish getting’ ready.  What time are you leavin’?”

“In a couple of hours.  Are you going to come see me off and kiss me goodbye?”

Daryl just put his hand over his face and shoved him back on the bed.  Since he was grinning as he walked out, Jesus had to laugh.  He waited until he heard Daryl’s door shut and dashed over to his boots.  He looked them over twice, but almost missed it.  On the sole of each boot, Daryl had carved a tread into a tiny cross.  For a minute, he was confused, but then it occurred to him that the cross would make his tracks easier to identify.  A cross for Jesus, he thought with a smile.  He might not know if Daryl was attracted to him, but he definitely cared. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Daryl strode into his room at Alexandria with Jesus hot on his heels, anger pumping off of him in waves.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

They had been arguing for the better part of an hour.  All the way back from the safe house they had been assigned to check to see if any of the escaped Saviors had holed up there.  True to his word, Rick had given Daryl the assignment as soon as Dr. Carson had cleared him.  But things had gone south.  The safe house had been empty when they got there, but a few of the Saviors had apparently gotten the idea to hole up there after Daryl and Jesus had arrived.

“We won, didn’t we?”

“We got lucky!”  Jesus was fuming.  “We were well hidden and could have picked them off after they went to sleep.  Why would you risk exposing yourself like that?”

Daryl had a flash of the panic he had felt when he’d seen a couple of those Saviors walking right towards Jesus.  He wasn’t going to tell Jesus about that now.  He was too angry. 

“It was a good fight.  We got out, and those Saviors are dead.  That’s a win in my book.”

“A few weeks ago, you almost died from a stab wound, and the first thing you do when you’re cleared for runs is recklessly throw yourself into a fight with half a dozen Saviors.  What were you thinking?”

He couldn’t shake the panic or the fear.  It was too soon after the stabbing.  He’d almost lost Daryl twice now.   And this time, he’d been conscious and watching when a bullet whizzed by Daryl’s head close enough to flutter his hair.  His breath had clogged in his lungs, and his heart had started pounding.  It was still pounding.  That was too close, and it could have been avoided.

“I was thinkin’ those Saviors needed to die.”

“That bullet missed your thick skull by millimeters, Daryl!  The slightest shift either way, and you’d be dead!”

“Didn’t happen.  We’re both alive, and those Saviors are dead.”

“It’s not worth getting yourself killed!”

“I’m not lettin’ those bastards hurt anyone else I care about.  It’s worth it to protect my family.”

Jesus made a sound that reminded Daryl of a pressure cooker letting off steam.  He watched, oddly fascinated, as Jesus tugged at his own hair in frustration.  He’d never seen him this worked up.  Jesus was usually the calm one. 

“Why are you so mad about this?  We’re fine.  They’re dead.  It all worked out.”

Jesus couldn’t think clearly.  He couldn’t see past the bullet that kept whizzing by Daryl’s head in his mind.  Too close, he kept telling himself.  _Why am I mad?_    He nearly rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the question. 

Without thinking, he stalked over to Daryl and grabbed the back of his head.  There was a moment where he registered the shock in Daryl’s eyes.  Then everything blurred, and his mouth was hard and hot on Daryl’s.  Nothing hesitant about it, nothing testing or particularly friendly. It was all demand, with an irritable edge.  At Daryl’s surprised gasp, he thrust his tongue in and swirled it around Daryl’s.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, his rational self was screaming that this was a mistake, but he was too angry to listen.  He poured everything he felt into the kiss, everything he had.  If it was a mistake, if he was ruining everything, he was going to make damn sure it was worth it.  He deepened the kiss, sucking on Daryl’s tongue and then gave his bottom lip a nip as he pulled back. 

Still leading with temper, Jesus shoved back from him.  “That’s why, you moron.”  Then he stalked out of the room, leaving Daryl just standing there, looking stunned. 

Jesus made it outside and halfway down the street before his temper started to clear, and the realization of what had just happened hit him like a ton of bricks.  _Oh my God.  What have I done?_   Knowing he’d lost his mind and probably Daryl’s friendship, he changed directions and headed for the one person who might be able to help him sort this out.  Or hide him.

Daryl was still standing in the same spot.  He hadn’t moved – wasn’t sure he could move.  _What the hell was that?_   Jesus had _kissed_ him.  He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.  _Jesus_ had kissed him.  On numb legs, he managed to get to the bed and sit down before he started shaking.  Jesus had kissed him and then just run off. 

He couldn’t think clearly.  It felt like a bomb had gone off inside him and shook everything up.  What was he supposed to do now?  In a surge of temper, he stalked down the hall to the guest room only to find it empty.  The little shit had left the house, and he didn’t know where he might have gone.  Temper draining, still shaking, he sank down on the bed in the guest room. 

“What the hell was that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting into the meat of the story. Thanks so much for all the lovely comments and kudos. I hope everyone is enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Thanks to violetverdeau for beta reading this for me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus worries that he's driven Daryl away by kissing him. Daryl turns to his friends for help sorting out his feelings for Jesus.

Jesus wasn’t sure how he had made it back to Hilltop in one piece.  He barely remembered the drive home.  His thoughts kept circling back around to kissing Daryl.  He lay his head on the steering wheel.  _Stupid and reckless._   There he had been, righteously lecturing Daryl about being reckless, but then he let his temper get the better of him.  _Hypocrite._   Daryl was probably never going to speak to him again.  Or he’d show up at Hilltop to punch him and _then_ never speak to him again.  His anger had cooled to panic before he’d even gotten out of Alexandria, and now depression settled over him like gloomy blanket.

He went to his trailer first, dumping his pack by the door and removing his duster.  Routine, mechanical movements as ingrained as taking a breath.  Then he collapsed on the sofa and put his face in his hands.  He wasn’t surprised when Maggie came in.  She would have seen him and known he was back early.  He’d been counting on that because he wanted this conversation to be private.

“Jesus?”  Maggie sat down next to him and put her hand on his arm.  “What’s wrong?  Why are you back early?”

“Everything’s wrong,” he said into his hands.

“Is everyone okay?  Did the Saviors …”

“No,” he interrupted quickly.  “No, it’s nothing like that.  Just me being stupid.”

Maggie relaxed and patted his shoulder.  “It can’t be that bad.”

“Yes, it can.”  Taking a deep breath and bracing his hands on his knees, he looked Maggie in the eye.  “I kissed Daryl.”

“You kissed Daryl?”  Maggie’s mouth dropped open.  She had suspected that Jesus might have feelings for Daryl, but she didn’t know about Daryl.  Something was going on there, but it was hard to tell with him.

“Yes,” Jesus groaned, putting his head back into his hands.

“Did you have a fight?”

“After I kissed him? No.  He was shocked – frozen to the spot.  I just left.”

Maggie thought it was a good sign that Daryl hadn’t punched Jesus right away, but she wanted to hear the whole story before drawing any conclusions.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.”

Jesus went through it quickly, mortified that he had screwed up this badly.  “And now … he probably hates me,” he finished, putting his head in his hands again.

Maggie put her arms around Jesus in comfort.  “I don’t think he hates you.  Don’t worry.  We’ll figure this out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl went to the only person he thought might be able to help him sort all this out.  He knocked on the door and waited.  Eric answered with a smile, but it quickly faded into concern.

“Daryl?  Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”  He was still having trouble getting his thoughts lined out.  “I need to talk to Aaron.  Is he here?”

“Of course,” Eric said, taking Daryl’s arm and feeling his forehead.  He was pale and shaking but didn’t feel feverish.

“I’m not sick.  Just need to talk to Aaron.”

“Okay, sweetie.  You sit down, and I’ll go get him.”  Before you fall down, he thought as he rushed upstairs.

Daryl couldn’t sit.  He paced around the living room, rubbing his knuckles with his fingers.  He was still trying to figure out what to say when Aaron came rushing into the room.

“Daryl?”  He looked worried as he took Daryl’s arm to get his attention.  “What’s wrong?”

Daryl stared at Aaron blankly for a second, then just blurted it out.  “Jesus kissed me.”

“Did you have a fight?”  Aaron didn’t think Daryl would hit Jesus for kissing him, but something was obviously wrong.

“I don’t know,” Daryl said, still pacing around the room.  “One minute he was naggin’ me about bein’ reckless, and the next he’s got his tongue stuck down my throat.”  The surge of temper felt better than the blank confusion.  “Then he just ran off, and I don’t know where he went.”

“Do you want me to help you look for him?”

“What?”  Daryl stared blankly again, but shook it off.  “No.  I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“About the kiss,” Aaron said carefully.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, still pacing restlessly around the room.

“Daryl, sit down.”  Aaron was starting to get dizzy following his circular path.  He took Daryl’s arm and led him to a chair, then sat on the sofa.  “Start at the beginning, and tell me everything. “

“That’s it,” Daryl grumbled, lighting a cigarette.  “We were arguin’ about the fight with the Saviors, and then he just kissed me.”

Eric came back in with an ashtray and a glass of water for Daryl, and they both resisted smiling.  Daryl was not particularly talkative when he was in a good mood.  It was like pulling teeth, but Aaron questioned and prodded until he had a good picture of what led up to the kiss.   

“Daryl, I think Jesus might have been trying to tell you that he has feelings for you.”

“Why wouldn’t he just say so?”

“Would you want him to?”

“Better than playin’ games.”  Daryl took a deep drag from his cigarette and blew out smoke.

“It would have been better to talk to you, but I can understand why he was afraid to.  If you don’t feel the same way, it could make things very awkward for both of you.”

Daryl stood up and started pacing again, a trail of smoke following him.  His thoughts were whirling too fast.  His chest felt tight.  He took another drag, let out the smoke.  “You think he took off ‘cause he thinks I’m mad?”

“Possibly.  What did you do when he kissed you?”

Daryl blushed.  “Nothin’.  I just stood there – couldn’t move.  But I wasn’t expectin’ it, you know?”  He drew in more smoke and let it out, pacing back and forth, becoming more agitated.  “I could do better if I expected it.  He just joked about it, you know?  All that talk about first and second dates and kissin’ on the third date.”  He crushed out his cigarette.  Lit another and blew out more smoke.  “I never thought he was serious. He made it all seem like a game or somethin’.  Then he just runs off before I can get my head wrapped around it.  Didn’t give me a chance to do nothin’.”

As Daryl wound down, Aaron and Eric just stared at each other, mouths open.  Aaron could tell Eric was biting back an ‘I told you so’.  He wasn’t sure how to respond to Daryl’s speech.  He cleared his throat and carefully said, “So you liked the kiss.”

“He was gone before I could even think about it,” Daryl said, still pacing and trailing smoke.

“Daryl, are you …”  Aaron took a breath, feeling like he was treading over egg shells.  “Do you think you’re gay?”

“How do you know?”  Daryl asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Aaron sat back on the sofa and blew out a breath.  “I’m not sure how to answer that.  It’s not like there’s a check list.”

“How’d you figure it out?”

“I’ve always been attracted to men,” Aaron said, shrugging.  “I was never really attracted to women, and the few times I tried to date women, it was a disaster.”

Daryl sat back down in the chair and slumped back, flicking ashes into the ashtray.  “I always thought somethin’ was wrong with me,” he said quietly.

“You’ve been with women?”

“Couldn’t avoid it with Merle around.”  Daryl stared at his hands, rubbed his knuckles.  “He got me a hooker for my birthday.  I was sixteen.  Said it was time for me to man up.”  He took a shaky drag from his cigarette, blew it out.  “I couldn’t … umm …  finish, you know?”

Aaron just nodded in sympathy while Eric rubbed Daryl’s shoulder to try and comfort him.

“I tried a few times after that – Merle was always tossin’ some girl or other at me – but I never could.  I sneaked out to the library once.  Tried to look it up.  Found out that some people just don’t like sex, you know?  I figured that’s what it was so I didn’t think about it.  It wasn’t a problem for me.  I could fake it when I had to so it didn’t matter.  But lately …”  He trailed off, blushing.

“Something changed?”  Eric asked gently.

Daryl nodded, still staring at his hands.  “I’ve been havin’ these dreams.  I don’t remember much about them, but when I wake up, I’m …. you know …”  He waved a hand at his crotch, and Aaron nodded again to show he understood.

“When did that start?”  Aaron asked.

“After I was stabbed.  Maybe before.  I’m not sure.  I had dreams I didn’t remember.  But they’ve been gettin’ clearer since I was stabbed.”

“When you were staying with Jesus at Hilltop.”

“Yeah.”

Aaron took a deep breath.  He was way out of his element here, but Daryl was his friend, and he needed help.  “I think we should focus on sorting out your feelings first.  Jesus made his clear – clumsily – but he’s left the ball in your court.  You need to decide if you want to move forward with this or not.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said, crushing out his cigarette and toying with the pack.  “I need to figure this out ‘cause, right now, I don’t know whether I want to kick his ass or kiss it.”

Eric choked on the drink of water he’d been taking so Daryl thumped him on the back while he coughed.  “I’m sorry,” he said, fighting back laughter.  “That’s just …”  He gave in and doubled over laughing.  Daryl didn’t laugh, but he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.

Aaron just grinned.  “I think it’s safe to say that Jesus would prefer the latter.”

“I still don’t get it.”  Daryl lit another cigarette.  He was going to regret smoking them so fast, but it gave him something to do with his hands, and the nicotine helped him feel calmer.

“What?”

“Why he would kiss me.”  Daryl blew out smoke and shook his head.  “Why he would want to.”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”  Eric asked, smiling.

Aaron elbowed him in the side, and Daryl just narrowed his eyes.  Eric wasn’t going to let it drop though.  “Seriously, Daryl.  Why _wouldn’t_ he want you?  You’re a good man.  Brave and loyal with a huge heart.  And you’re gorgeous.  Well, he is,” he went on as Aaron elbowed him again.  “Honestly, if I wasn’t already happily married to my soul mate, I’d consider kissing you myself.”

Daryl squirmed in his seat.  He wasn’t used to people praising him so openly.  “I just do what needs to be done.”

“You do that and a lot more,” said Aaron, shaking his head at Daryl’s frown.  “You always have.  But you can ask Jesus about his feelings when the time comes.”

Daryl nodded and blew out more smoke.  “So, how do I figure this out?”

Aaron looked thoughtful for a moment.  “You said you hadn’t thought about the kiss.  Think about it now – how it made you feel.”

“Like a bomb went off,” Daryl said.  “And everything just stopped working.  I didn’t think about it ‘cause I couldn’t think.”

“Close your eyes,” Aaron suggested.  After Daryl had done so, he continued.  “Put yourself back in that moment.  Forget about the argument before.  Forget about Jesus leaving after.  Just think about how it felt when he kissed you.  His lips on yours …”

“Soft,” Daryl said quietly.  “Warm.”

“You don’t have to tell us.  Just let yourself feel it.”

It wasn’t as difficult as Daryl thought it would be.  He could still feel Jesus’s fingers pressing against the back of his head, pulling him down.  That instant where their breath mingled just before the friction of their lips rubbing together.  His gasp of surprise and Jesus’s tongue licking inside, swirling around his own.  That little suck and nip as he pulled away.  And he wanted more, he realized as his gut churned. He had a vision of himself dragging Jesus to the floor, tearing away their clothes to feel flesh against flesh. 

With the breath shuddering in his lungs, he jerked back and opened his eyes. Aaron and Eric were both watching him expectantly with knowing smiles on their faces.  He shifted uncomfortably at the sudden tightness of his jeans, crushed out the cigarette that had burned down to the filter, and cleared his throat.

“Ummm … yeah,” he said, blushing.  “Okay.  I’m gay.”  He sighed and looked down at his hands again.  “So, what now?”

Aaron chuckled.  “Now, you find Jesus – no pun intended –  and work through the rest of it together.”

Daryl toyed with his pack of cigarettes, deciding against lighting up another one.  “He could change his mind.  Maybe that’s why he left.  A lot of things can go wrong.”  He let out a shuddering breath.  People die,” he added, almost in a whisper.

“All of that’s true, but don’t you think it’s worth the risk?  Every day, I wake up knowing that it could be the last.  For me, for Eric, or for any of my friends.”  He smiled when Eric reached over and took his hand.  “That just makes it all the more precious.  Life is never as long as we want it to be, and wasted time can never be recovered.”

Daryl watched the two of them smiling at each other, the connection between them running deeper than their joined hands.  He thought of Maggie and Glenn, how they’d made the most of every day they’d had together.  He thought of Rick taking a second chance with Michonne, and Carol taking her chance with Ezekiel.  They’d all suffered losses, and they’d all gotten through it.  Maybe Aaron was right, and that was the point.  Life had to be lived, even – and maybe particularly – in the middle of death.

“I guess I should go find the little shit,” he said, standing and heading towards the door.  He looked back at Aaron and Eric, still holding hands.  “Thanks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maggie dragged Jesus around to the greenhouses.  She’d tried everything else she could think of, and he was still upset and thinking Daryl hated him.  Maybe she could show him.  She stopped in front of a row of weed-like plants with purple flowers blooming.

“Maggie,” Jesus said, sighing.  “Why are we here?”

“I wanted to show you these.”

“Okay.  What are they?”

“Chicory.  Daryl found them growing wild and asked me to help him transplant them here.”

“Maggie –“

“Just listen.  Chicory roots can be roasted and ground up as a substitute for coffee.  Or an additive to stretch out the coffee you have further.”

Jesus thought he knew where this was going.  “Maggie –“

“He wanted to do this for you,” Maggie continued, steamrolling over Jesus as though he hadn’t spoken at all.  “Just because he knows you like coffee.  He even asked me to look into growing coffee plants.  It’s doable, but it would take a while for the plant to fruit.  So, in the meantime, we have chicory.”

Jesus felt tears prickling and blinked to hold them back.  “He’s the sweetest, most generous man I’ve ever known.  But –“  He held up a hand when Maggie smiled, “this was before.  You can’t know if he’d still want to do this after ….”

“I may not know exactly what he’s feeling right now, but I know Daryl,” Maggie said firmly.  “If he was really angry because you kissed him, you’d never have gotten your tongue in his mouth.  He’d have hit you or at least pushed you away and yelled at you.”

“Maybe, but …”

“No buts.  Even if he doesn’t feel the same way that you do, he does care about you.  You should go back and talk to him.  You can work this out.”

Jesus looked at the chicory plants and sighed.  He wanted to believe Maggie.  More than anything, he wanted to believe she was right.  And he knew that she wouldn’t let him hide regardless.  “I will,” he agreed, holding up his hand again when Maggie smiled.  “But I think we both need some time to process this.  There’s a group going out in the morning to track the Saviors.  I’m going with them.”

“I don’t think –“

Jesus just held up his hand again.  “They’re only going to be out for the day.  I’ll be back before dark.  That will give us both time to think about it.  I’ll go back to Alexandria the next day.”

“And if Daryl comes here?”

“Tell him I’ll be back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finding Jesus turned out to be a little more complicated than Daryl had expected.

“What do you mean he’s gone?”

Rick finished changing Judith and nuzzled her stomach to make her giggle.  “He left shortly after the two of you got back.  Said he had some things to take care of at the Hilltop.”

“And you just let him leave?”

“I wasn’t aware that he was supposed to be held prisoner,” Rick said, setting Judith on the floor with some toys.  “Daryl, what’s goin’ on?  Did the two of you have a fight?”

“Not exactly.”  Daryl hadn’t planned on telling anyone else about what happened yet.  But, however things worked out, Rick was going to find out eventually.  And they never kept secrets from each other.  With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the wall and stared at his feet.  “He kissed me.”

Rick didn’t say anything.  With his stomach clutching, Daryl looked up and was surprised to see Rick grinning at him.

“You think it’s funny?”

“No, I’m happy for you.”  Rick laid his hand on Daryl’s shoulder.  “You’re good together, and he makes you happy.”

“How’d you know?”  Daryl asked quietly, looking back down at his feet.

“Can’t say that I did,” Rick admitted.  “Not until you told me just now.  But it makes sense, and I just want you to be happy.  That’s what’s important.  So, what are you gonna to do?”

Daryl glanced at Rick and nodded.  He should have known Rick would get it.  “I don’t know.  It’s too late to head out now.  Be dark soon.”  He shrugged and joined Judith on the floor with her toys.  “I guess I’ll be goin’ to Hilltop in the mornin’.”

“I’ll go with you.  I’ve been meanin’ to go see Maggie anyway.  In the meantime, I should probably go help with dinner.  You okay to watch her for a bit?”

“We’re good,” Daryl said, grinning as Judith giggled and ran a toy car over his arms.

He got through dinner and the rest of the evening.  But he didn’t sleep well.  His dreams were filled with Jesus – all those moments that he hadn’t noticed or hadn’t let himself think about too much.  Jesus showing up at the Sanctuary when he escaped.  His arms wrapped tight around him as they rode back to Hilltop together.  The way Jesus had felt, pressed up against him – in the kitchen, on the ground, on the floor.  Jesus’s hair brushing over his skin as he’d changed his bandage.  The way his hands had felt, rubbing the ointment on his wound or washing his back.  How had he missed it?

He woke before the sun was up, aroused.  He lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.  He got up, turned on a lamp, and made his way to the bathroom.  Running the shower as hot as he could stand it, he stepped in and started lathering up.  Of course, his thoughts turned to Jesus and that tiny shower in his trailer.   With a sigh, he stroked himself, and for the first time, allowed himself to think of Jesus while he did it.  He remembered how Jesus had looked, fresh from his own shower and seemingly unconcerned about being naked.  Toned muscles still glistening with dampness.  He thought about his hands, long and somehow elegant fingers gently caressing him and lightly squeezing the muscles in his back through the washcloth.  The feel of his lips, his tongue …  Biting back a strangled cry, he braced himself against the shower wall as the orgasm ripped through him.  Feeling slightly dizzy, he hoped that once things were settled, he could finish as well when Jesus was actually with him.

After he was dressed, he decided to go ahead and fix breakfast.  The sun was up, and it wouldn’t be long before everyone else was awake.  Judith was an early riser and better than an alarm clock.  He was scrambling eggs, vaguely wishing they had some bacon to go along with them, when Rick came in with Judith.

“You’re up early,” Rick said as he strapped Judith into her high chair.

Daryl just shrugged and starting plating the eggs.

Rick leaned over his shoulder and sniffed.  “You showered too.”

“Don’t,” Daryl said, glaring at Rick.

Rick grinned back at him.  “Just an observation.”

They dug into their eggs and discussed leaving after breakfast.  Carl wanted to go along and visit Enid so they were going to take a car instead of Daryl’s motorcycle.  Daryl’s stomach was jumping with nerves, but he managed to finish his breakfast.  Unable to sit still, he went ahead to load up the car while Rick and Carl finished getting dressed.

The trip to the Hilltop was uneventful, and they made good time.  He didn’t make any protest over Rick’s choice of music.  He was too nervous to listen to it anyway.  He stared out the window in silence while Carl chattered in the back seat.  The sight of the walls around the Hilltop filled him with both relief and anxiety.  He’d see Jesus soon, but he had no idea what was going to happen after.

Maggie greeted them at the gate with hugs.  Carl immediately ran off to look for Enid.  Daryl felt his stomach start churning again when Maggie looked at him expectantly.  She knew why they had come.  Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Daryl looked her in the eye.

“Where is he?”

Maggie gave a heavy sigh.  “He’s not here.  You just missed him.  He went out with a group about a half hour ago.”   She placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder to stop him from going back to the car.  “He told me to tell you that he’d be back.”

“When?”

“Before dark,” Maggie rubbed her hand up and down Daryl’s arm to try and ease the tension.  “I tried to talk him out of goin’, but he thought you both needed time to …”  She glanced over at Rick, unsure.

“He knows,” Daryl said, trying not to snarl.  It wasn’t Maggie’s fault Jesus had taken off before he got there.

“Oh,” Maggie said, smiling.  Daryl telling Rick was a good sign in her opinion.  “So, does this mean …”

“Yeah,” Daryl grumbled.  “If I can ever catch up to the little shit.”

He walked away, ignoring the sound of their laughter.  He stowed his pack in Jesus’s trailer, figuring that’s where they’d end up talking whenever he got back.  Then he sat down on the sofa and laid his head back.  _Half an hour_.  He wished he’d woken Rick and Carl up sooner.  That they hadn’t wasted time on breakfast.  Now that he’d figured out what he wanted, it seemed fate was determined to get in his way.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He could be patient.  Just a few more hours.

It was still early in the afternoon when the group returned.  Andy and Bertie rushed over to Maggie.  Daryl looked over the people that had come in, every sense tingling on alert.  He didn’t see Jesus.  Something was wrong.  He walked over to join Maggie and the others.

“… don’t know what happened exactly.  We got separated.  We backtracked and looked around, but we couldn’t find Jesus anywhere.”

Daryl's heart stopped. He'd never know how long he stood there, unable to breathe, his body rocking with shock. Then he broke, started forward, with some wild notion of tearing through the woods to find him.  Rick rushed over to stand in front of him and block his way.

“Daryl, wait.”  He put a hand to his chest.  “We’ll find him.  You can track him better than anyone, but you gotta stay focused.  We will find him.“

Daryl reigned himself in.  He knew Rick was right.  He had to get himself under control, clear his head.  He took a deep breath and turned to Andy.  “Need a map so you can show us where you were.”

Bertie pulled a map out of her pack and spread it out on the picnic table.  Rick studied the area that Andy pointed out.

“That’s closer to Alexandria.  If he’s hurt, it would be quicker to take him there.  Maggie?”

“I’ll take Dr. Carson to Alexandria.  We’ll wait for you there.”

Rick organized the search party.  Andy and Bertie came with them to show them exactly where their group had been split up.  Several others had volunteered just so they would able to cover more ground.  Daryl shut it all out, focusing entirely on the land around him.  Rick tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Andy says they got separated around here,” he said, pointing to a path in the woods.

Daryl knelt by the path, studying impressions in the dirt.  A lot of footprints and different kinds of boots, but … _there_.  He spotted a print with a tiny cross at the toe.  Without a word, he stood and started walking down the path, keeping his eyes down to find the next print.  The others followed.  Nobody said anything.  They just kept their eyes on Daryl and their ears open for any sound that could be Jesus … or a threat.

Daryl focused on the ground in front of him.  He shut down the memories of Sophia and Merle.  He refused to allow himself to think or to feel or to imagine.  Occasionally, he would kneel to study groupings of footprints until he found the tiny cross again.  Jesus’s prints turned when the path forked off to the left, narrowing with a steep drop on the right side.  Daryl stopped and kneeled at the edge of the path.

“Tracks end here,” he said, turning to Rick.  “Looks like he went down here.”  He studied the trees.  “Yeah, there’s a broken branch.  Probably tried to climb it.”  He slung his crossbow over his back and peered over the edge.  “Gonna need some rope.”

“I got some,” said Bertie, opening her pack.  “We brought it in case we found any Saviors.”

Daryl just nodded and secured one end of the rope around his waist while Rick tied the other end around the base of the tree.  He had a brief flash of himself falling down an incline not too different from this one when Nervous Nellie had thrown him.  Shaking himself, he shut that memory down too.

“You got a radio?”

Daryl nodded again.

“Good,” Rick said, taking hold of the rope just in case the tree didn’t hold.  “We don’t want to make any more noise than we have to.”

Daryl lowered himself over the edge carefully, testing his weight against the tree.  It held so he began moving down the cliff slowly, eyes scanning around for any sign of Jesus.  A few feet down, he spotted Jesus’s beanie and snagged it out of the brush.  He stared at it for a minute, then stuck it in his pocket and kept going.  When the ground started to level out, he stopped again, scanning the area around him for any tracks or signs of damage.  It looked like Jesus had dragged himself through the brush.  A low moan came from somewhere to his right.

He whirled, his head whipping up like a wolf's scenting its mate and just caught the slightest movement in the brush.  He loaded his crossbow and carefully made his way over to the base of another tree.  Jesus was curled up next to it and had pulled some of the leaves and branches over him like a blanket.  He was scraped, bleeding, bruised, and gloriously alive.

Daryl didn't go to him at once. He needed a moment for his hands to stop shaking, for his heart to stop sputtering and beat normally again. Relief was like a drug, a spiked drink to make him giddy. He gulped it down, then found himself grinning like an idiot as he dropped down and gently took that almost too pretty face in his hands.

Jesus moaned again, and Daryl quickly checked for any signs of broken bones.  They had to get him out of here, but he wasn’t going to move him until he was sure he wouldn’t cause further injury.  Once he was satisfied, he untied the rope from around his waist and secured it around Jesus.  He slung his crossbow over his back again and radioed Rick.

“I’ve got him.  He’s unconscious and hurt, but I don’t think anything’s broken.  I tied the rope around him to help pull him up.”

“Got it.  Give a tug when you’re ready for me to start pulling.”

The climb back up was miserable, but Daryl barely noticed.  He was focused entirely on helping Rick pull Jesus up without hurting him.  At the top, Rick laid Jesus out flat before turning to help Daryl pull himself over the edge.  He lay on his back for a minute to catch his breath and then helped Rick carry Jesus back to the car. 

The drive back to Alexandria was quiet.  Daryl sat in the backseat with Jesus’s head in his lap, gently stroking the hair away from his face.  There was a nasty scrape on his forehead, seeping blood.  His leather duster seemed to have held up well, but his shirt and pants were ripped and stained with blood.

Maggie and Dr. Carson rushed out of the infirmary as soon as they pulled up.  After Jesus had been carried in, Daryl sat on the steps outside, smoking.  Finally, Maggie came out and sat next to him.

“He’s got a concussion, bruised ribs, assorted contusions and lacerations, and a sprained wrist.  He’s gonna be fine.”  She laid her head on Daryl’s shoulder as he sagged in relief.  “Dr. Carson said he needs to stay in the infirmary for the next 24 hours to monitor the concussion, but he can stay with you after that.”

“Good.”  He drew in a deep breath and exhaled.  “That’s good.”

“Do you want to sit with him for a while?”

“No,” Daryl said, shaking his head when Maggie started to protest.  “He was out there ‘cause he’s not ready to talk to me yet.  He needs to focus on gettin’ better.  I can wait 24 hours.  And you’ll keep me updated, right?”

“Yeah.”  Maggie lifted her head and looked at Daryl.  “You should get some sleep.”

“I will.”

But Daryl knew that sleep was going to be a long time coming.  After Maggie went back inside, he lit another cigarette.  It was going to take a while to erase the image of Jesus crumpled and bleeding under that tree from his mind.  Still, he also knew that could have ended much worse, and he could only be grateful that, this time, he’d been given a second chance to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot more focus on Daryl in this chapter, but he had more to work through than Jesus did. Thanks again for all the lovely comments and kudos. Thanks to violetverdeau for beta reading this for me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl finally gets some time alone with Jesus to talk about the kiss and decide what to do next.

Jesus woke to silence. He had a vague recollection of being poked and prodded, and of being awakened several times through the night by someone wanting him to count their fingers.  His last clear memory was trying to climb a tree, and the branch breaking, but he thought he could put things together fairly well.  He took stock of the brace on his wrist and felt a bandage on his forehead.  Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have any major injuries.

He knew someone had found him and brought him to Alexandria.  He recognized the infirmary.  He wasn’t clear on all of that, but he had vague memories of hearing Daryl’s voice and someone stroking his hair.  He’d probably just dreamed that though.  He sighed heavily and struggled to sit up.

“Careful.  You don’t want to hurt your wrist.”

Jesus looked up as Maggie and Dr. Carson came over to help him.  “What happened?”  He took a sip of the water that Maggie handed him.  “I mean, I know I fell.  But how did I get here?”

“Daryl found you,” Maggie replied, giving Jesus a knowing look.  “It was quicker to bring you to Alexandria so Dr. Carson and I came here to wait while they were searching for you.”

Jesus only stared at Maggie.  What she said made sense.  Daryl was the best tracker – not just at Alexandria, but out of all the communities.  It surprised him that Daryl had searched for him, but he realized that it shouldn’t have.  He was letting his own guilt color his judgement.  Even if Daryl was angry about the kiss, he was too good of a person to let Jesus die out there.

“How do you feel?”  Dr. Carson set his bag on the table by the bed.  “Are you in any pain?”

“Mostly, I’m just sore.  Some twinges in my wrist and a headache.”

“Your wrist is sprained.  The brace will help, but you need to be careful with it for a few days.  You’ve also got a concussion, bruised ribs, and an assortment of contusions and lacerations.  Pretty nasty fall.”

“Yeah.  I got separated from Andy and Bertie.  I was going to backtrack to try and find them, but I heard something and decided to hide in a tree just in case it wasn’t them.  The lower branch wouldn’t support my weight.”

He decided not to tell them that he’d gotten separated because he’d been lost in his own thoughts about Daryl and wasn’t paying attention.  Maggie had been right.  He should never have gone on that search.

“Well, you’re very lucky,” Dr. Carson said, pulling out a penlight to check Jesus’s pupils.  “Your injuries could have been much worse.  It’s a good thing that Daryl was at the Hilltop when Andy and Bertie got back.”

Jesus looked over at Maggie again while Dr. Carson examined his wrist and cleared his throat.  She had that ‘I told you so’ look.  He was afraid to ask her, but he needed to know.  “Is Daryl here?”

“He’s been haunting the porch outside off and on all night, littering it with cigarette butts.  Said he didn’t want to upset you or disturb your rest because you’re hurt.  The pair of you are driving me crazy.  You’re both too damn stubborn.”

Jesus looked away.  He didn’t know how to feel or what to think.  “I just need some time.”

“I guess you got what you wanted.”

“Right now, I just want to use the bathroom,” Jesus said, deliberately ignoring Maggie’s barb because he knew she was right again.  He was being a coward, but even if Daryl wasn’t angry and didn’t hate him, he still wasn’t ready to hear the ‘I’m flattered but just want to be friends’ speech.

He inched over to the side of the bed, planted his feet on the floor. After a bracing breath, he rose. The room bobbled a bit but steadied quickly. His head felt like it was caught in a vice, but at least nobody was tightening the screws.  Dr. Carson stood nearby, looking ready to catch him if he pitched over.

"Any light-headedness?”

“A little, but the headache seems to drown that out.”

“I’ll give you something for pain.  If you're dizzy at all, sit down. Just sit down wherever you are. It's better than falling. "

“Right,” Jesus agreed, carefully making his way to the bathroom.

Inside, he took a look at himself in the mirror.  It wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting.  He could see some bruising around the edge of the bandage on his forehead, but the worst of it seemed to center around his side where the mottled bruising was joined with several cuts and scrapes that spread out over his torso and legs.  His hair was a tangled mess, matted with blood and sweat, he imagined.  He didn’t bother to ask if it was okay for him to take a shower.  He felt grimy, and the hot water eased the soreness.

He shrugged into a robe and left the bathroom to find Rick had joined Maggie and Dr. Carson.  Someone – probably Maggie – had dug out a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt from his pack.  He pulled the pants on under the robe, then discarded it and pulled on the shirt.  The lighter material was a lot more comfortable over his bruises and scrapes.

“You look better,” Maggie said, handing him a brush.

“The hot water helped,” Jesus replied as Dr. Carson changed the bandage on his forehead.  “Rick, I want to thank you –“

“It’s not necessary.  We’re all just glad you’re okay and Daryl was able to find you.”

Jesus only nodded as Dr. Carson finished bandaging him and put some cream over the scrapes.  Rick was silent for a minute, then continued.

“We’ve got your room ready for you.  You can stay as long as you need to.”

“I’d really prefer to go home,” Jesus said, unable to look Rick in the eye.

“I can’t let you do that yet,” Dr. Carson said, closing up his bag.  “I’m going to keep you in the infirmary again tonight for observation.  But you can go to Rick’s tomorrow.  You need a few more days of rest before traveling.  I’ll be going back with Maggie tomorrow, but I’ve gone over everything with Rosita.  You’ll be fine.”

Jesus started to protest, but Rick rolled right over it.

“No need to worry.  We’ve got plenty of room, and Rosita will come check on you.”  He turned to Maggie, again rolling over Jesus’s attempt to protest.  “Daryl’s going to drive you and Dr. Carson back to the Hilltop tomorrow.  Carl wants to come along since his visit with Enid was cut short.  They can stay a day or two, if that’s all right.”

“Sure,” Maggie said, hoping she didn’t sound as surprised or as frustrated as she felt.  She was going to kick Daryl’s ass.  She tried to keep her expression neutral as Rick turned back to Jesus.

“Good.  That’s settled.  You take care of yourself.  We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right,” Jesus said, resigned.  He brushed out his damp hair and pulled it up into a bun.  At least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting the ‘just want to be friends’ speech for a little longer.

Rick and Maggie left the infirmary together.  As soon as they were away from the infirmary, Maggie whirled on Rick, sparks firing in her eyes.  “You can’t let Daryl go to the Hilltop!  He needs to stay here and talk to Jesus.”

“I know that,” Rick said, grinning.  “And you should know Daryl better than that.  I couldn’t make him go to the Hilltop while Jesus is here if I put a gun to his head.  I just said that so Jesus wouldn’t try to get out of staying at the house.  It’ll be me, Michonne, Carl, and Judith going to the Hilltop with you so Daryl can have the house to himself.  Got enough room for us to visit for a day or two?”

Maggie grinned back at him.  “You’re a sneaky one.  Yeah, we got plenty of room.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Daryl was up before the sun.  Dr. Carson keeping Jesus at the infirmary an extra night had played havoc with his nerves, but Jesus would be here today.  He paced around his room, trying to figure out what he would say and how to say it.  Too much time to think and second guess himself.  He needed to find something to do.  He stopped and looked around his room, eyes landing on the bed.  He should probably wash the sheets.  Whatever happened, he wanted Jesus where he could keep an eye on him so he should have clean sheets to sleep on.  He could sleep on the floor if necessary, but he hoped it wouldn’t be.

As his stripped the bed and carried the sheets downstairs, he remembered the day he and Jesus had set it up.  He realized now that Jesus had been flirting with him – really flirting – but he’d been too dense to pick up on it.  He’d just assumed it was all a joke.  Like all their conversations about dates.  He shoved everything into the washer, added soap, and turned the washer on.  Remembering the last time he and Jesus had talked about dates, he grinned.  He knew what to do now.

When Rick came down with Judith, he found Daryl cutting up potatoes.  There were carrots, onions, and celery already chopped up and meat browning on the stove.  Rick watched while Daryl rinsed off the vegetables and started dumping everything into a crock pot.

“This is an unusual breakfast.”

“It ain’t breakfast, and it ain’t for you,” Daryl said, adding stock and seasonings.  “We got any mushrooms?”

“I don’t think so.”  Rick grinned as Daryl rummaged through the cabinets and refrigerator.  “This must be a hot date if you’re cooking.”

Daryl glared at him.  “I’m gonna see if Eric has any mushrooms.”  He ignored Rick’s laughter as he rushed out and down the street.

“What’s so funny?”  Carl yawned and scratched his belly.

“Just giving Daryl a hard time.  He’s cooking dinner for Jesus.”

“Rabbit stew?”

“That’s his usual,” Rick agreed.

“I think it’s the only thing he knows how to cook,” Carl said, sniffing at the crock pot.  “But it’s good.”

Rick was scrambling eggs when Daryl came back in, loaded down with a couple of bags.  Eric had insisted on giving him a loaf of bread he had baked and some herbed oil to dip it in.  He’d also dug out a couple of bottles of wine.  It was a bit fancier than what Daryl was used to, but he could deal with that for a special occasion.  And he hoped this would be special.  He put everything on the counter and started sautéing the mushrooms in the same pan he’d browned the rabbit in.

“That smells really good,” Carl said, sniffing at the crock pot again.

“Should be plenty left over,” Daryl replied, dumping the mushrooms into the crock pot with the rest.

“Daryl, are you doing laundry?”

Daryl turned to see Michonne looking at him with a confused expression.  He shrugged and looked away.  “Just my sheets and stuff.”

Rick whistled.  “Rabbit stew and clean sheets.  _Really_ hot date.”

“Shut up."

“I hope you’re going to shower too,” Michonne said, grinning as Rick laughed and slapped Daryl on the shoulder.

Daryl glowered and went to put his sheets in the dryer.  He heard the knock at the door as he came back into the kitchen.  Ignoring Rick’s teasing grin, he answered it to find Tara standing on the porch.

“Hey!  Eric said you had a date with Jesus tonight.  I thought you might like these.”  She handed him a stack of DVD’s.

“Is everybody gonna be all up in my business today?”  Daryl was glaring at her, but he could feel the heat rushing into his face.  _Shit._

Tara smiled, too used to Daryl being surly to be offended by it.  “We just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” Daryl mumbled with a sigh.  “Now get lost.”

“Sure thing.  Oh, Rosita said that Dr. Carson will probably send Jesus over around noon.  Have fun!”  She winked and, with a wave towards Rick and the others, walked back towards the infirmary.

“Don’t,” Daryl snarled when he saw Rick grinning again.  He stepped outside to smoke a cigarette.  His stomach was jumping like frogs in a pond, and all the teasing was just making him more nervous.  When Rick came out to join him, he sat on the steps and narrowed his eyes.

“Ain’t y’all gone yet?”

“They’re getting ready.  You okay?”

Daryl stared at the burning ash on his cigarette and flicked it away.  “Just nervous.”

“Yeah.  That’s normal.  I remember my first date with Lori.  I was a nervous wreck.”

“Really?”

“Nearly slit my throat shaving.  Changed my clothes twice.  I was heading out of the house wearing a tennis shoe on my right foot and a loafer on my left.  Had to tie the tennis shoe and still didn’t notice.  Lucky for me, my mom did.”

Daryl laughed.  It helped knowing that Rick understood.  “I only got boots so at least I won’t get that wrong.”

“You’ll be fine,” Rick said, patting him on the shoulder.  “The waiting is the worst part.”

“Yeah.  I hope so.”

After Rick and the others had left to meet Maggie and Dr. Carson, Daryl took a quick shower and finished getting everything ready.  Rosita showed up with Jesus’s pack and his duster while he was trying to make the bed.

“It’s just me,” she said, when he jumped, looking panicked.  “Dr. Carson is giving Jesus one last exam before they leave.  I brought his stuff and the medicine.”

Rosita set Jesus’s things by the closet and stepped over to the other side of the bed to help tuck the sheet around the mattress.  Daryl was grateful for the help this time because he was cutting it close.  After they had smoothed the comforter in place, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a bottle.

“I found this in the supplies at the infirmary.  You probably won’t need lube right away, but I’ve always felt it’s better to be prepared.”

“We ain’t havin’ this conversation,” Daryl said, his face flaming.

“Just saying,” Rosita said, shrugging as she put the bottle in the drawer of the bedside table.  “It’s there if you need it.”

“Thanks for helpin’ me make the bed.  Go away now.”

Rosita laughed and patted Daryl on the back.  “You’ll thank me when you need it.”

Then she was gone and all Daryl had to do was wait.  He closed the shades in the living room and stood at the door to watch for Jesus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jesus waited for Dr. Carson to finish his exam while Maggie came in to say goodbye.  He just wanted to get to his room at Rick’s house and lay down, but he tried to work up a smile for Maggie so she wouldn’t worry.

“Rosita took your things over to Rick’s house so you won’t have to carry anything.”

“I could have done that, but I appreciate the thought.”

“It’s best to take it easy,” Dr. Carson said, closing up his bag.  “Remember, if you feel dizzy at all, just sit down.  Rosita has your medicine, and you can check in with her if you’re having more pain or light-headedness.”

Jesus nodded and hugged Maggie.  He watched them walk towards the main gate and saw that Rick and Michonne were waiting for them.  Deciding to take advantage of the house being empty so he could settle into his room without anyone else fussing over him, Jesus headed to Rick’s house.  He spotted Tara jogging up the steps to Aaron and Eric’s house.  She waved at him with a huge smile on her face before dashing inside.

As he entered Rick’s house, he noticed that something smelled amazing and glanced towards the kitchen as he walked through.  It looked like they had something cooking in the crock pot.  He considered taking a taste but decided against it.  He wasn’t sure how long Rick and Michonne would be at the main gate, and he wanted to be settled in before they came back.

From the corner in the living room, Daryl watched Jesus walk through and head to the stairs.  He seemed to be moving around okay, which was a relief.   Not that he thought Maggie would lie to him, but it helped to see for himself that Jesus was okay.  He followed Jesus to the stairs and saw the moment that he realized that he wasn’t alone.  At the top of the stairs, Jesus stopped and turned, his eyes wide.

“Daryl.”

Daryl started up the stairs, his heart pounding and his stomach churning.  This was it.  No turning back now.  He stopped on the step just below Jesus him so they were eye to eye.  He saw Jesus’s throat work as he swallowed, and those clear blue eyes looked stunned.

“I thought you were going to the Hilltop with Maggie,” Jesus said in a low voice, taking a step back.

“No.  Wanted to talk to you now that you’re feelin’ better.  Rick and Michonne went.  Took the kids.”

Jesus sighed and turned towards Daryl’s room.  Might as well finish it off at the scene of the crime, he thought.  His stomach clutched, and he could feel his heart starting to race as nerves set in.  He sat on the edge of the bed – the last thing he needed now was to complete his humiliation by keeling over because he got dizzy.  Daryl followed him in and shut the door behind him, leaning against it.  Jesus closed his eyes, waiting for Daryl to either start yelling or trying to let him down easy.

 “Why’d you kiss me?”

Jesus’s eyes snapped open.  That wasn’t what he’d expected.  His breath shuddered out.  “I was angry and just reacted without thinking.”  He stared at his boots, unable to look Daryl in the eye.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to …”

“So, you didn’t want to?”

“Of course I wanted to.” Jesus clasped his hands together so they wouldn’t shake.  “I’ve wanted to for so long … I just didn’t know if you … I don’t know how to explain it.” He stood up and started pacing.  “I lost my temper because I was scared for you – scared of losing you,” he admitted.  “I couldn’t think past that fear …”  He turned away and closed his eyes.  “I’d been holding back for so long, trying to keep it light and, when you asked why I was mad, something just snapped, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.”

Daryl felt a weight lift from him at Jesus’s words, and his heart did a slow turn.  He’d wanted to believe Aaron was right, but he’d needed to hear Jesus say it.  “Why’d you run off?

“I …”  Jesus turned back towards Daryl, misery in his eyes.  “I panicked.  When I started to calm down, and it hit me … I just panicked.  I thought I’d ruined everything by giving into impulse in a fit of temper.  And …”  He hung his head again.  “I was afraid to face you.”

“Why?”

Jesus blinked in surprise.  “I thought you’d be angry.  That you’d probably never want to speak to me again.  Or you’d punch me first and then never speak to me again.  Or you’d try to be gentle and let me down easy.”  He took a deep breath, exhaled.  He knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.  “I can deal with that though.  I don’t want to lose you as a friend because I was stupid and gave in to an impulse.”  

Daryl let Jesus ramble a bit longer.  Oddly, the more agitated Jesus became, the calmer he felt.  He was usually so calm and laid back.  Just knowing that Jesus was as nervous as he had been was soothing.  But he had the answers he wanted for now – the rest could wait a bit.  He pushed himself off the door and walked towards Jesus.  

“… it won’t happen again.  I swear it.  I just –“

“Paul.”

Jesus stopped mid-sentence, gaping at Daryl.  He’d never called him Paul before.  He started to stammer something, but Daryl grabbed the back of his head.

“Shut up.”

His eyes widened in surprise an instant before Daryl’s lips took his.  He made a sound, something that was reminiscent of a swimmer inhaling water by mistake.  It was a bit rough and awkward with their noses bumping and their teeth clacking together, but he didn’t care.  Daryl started to pull away, but Jesus grabbed his head to hold him in place.  He shifted the angle slightly and nibbled at Daryl’s lips until he parted them again so he could slide his tongue over them, between them, to cloud his senses with that flavor that was uniquely Daryl's.  Woodsy, smoky, and a little spicy.  The moans that ripped from their throats came out as one single, tortured sound.

The blood simply drained out of his head and left it buzzing with one thought.  Daryl was _kissing_ him.  _Daryl_ was kissing him.  He wanted this – had chosen to do it on his own.  That wonderfully wicked tongue was licking its way in to swirl around his own.  Jesus ran his hands down those muscular arms and his back, grabbing and molding his hips while pulling them closer together.  Daryl fisted his hands in Jesus’s hair at the contact.  The low growl from Daryl’s throat sent a spark of fire through him.

Panting, they pulled apart.  Daryl took in Jesus’s swollen lips and wide eyes, and his eyes landed on the bandage on Jesus’s forehead.  He ran his fingers lightly over the bandage, then found himself holding Jesus tight against him, burying his face in his hair, rocking as every thought and fear he'd held back during the last two nights flooded free. "Oh God."

The emotions that poured out of Daryl in those two words swamped Jesus. "I'm all right. Don't worry. I'm all right."

Daryl thought he'd dealt with it, thought that through the last couple of nights he'd conquered this sick, shaky sensation in his gut. But it shot back now, overwhelmingly strong. His only defense was to hold Jesus.  Just hold.

“When I heard Andy say you were missin’, I couldn’t breathe.”  As his system began to settle again, he laid his forehead against Jesus’s. "It felt like time just stopped. Gettin’ there, findin’ the right tracks, climbin’ down that incline ...  I was terrified I’d be too late." He ran his hands up and down Jesus’s arms as he drew back. "Then I found you under that tree, alive, and it all snapped back into place." He gently pressed his lips to Jesus’s.  “Don’t ever run off on me like that again.”

“I won’t,” Jesus promised, placing his hands on Daryl’s face and kissing him.  “I was afraid that you didn’t want this – that you wouldn’t.  I was trying to prepare myself for your anger – or trying to let me down gently because you just wanted to be friends.  I was afraid to let myself believe that you would feel the same way.  I don’t regret kissing you – I can’t when that’s led us here.”  Jesus took a shuddering breath and kissed Daryl again, softly.  “But I’ll always regret running because I didn’t have enough faith to believe this could be possible.”

“I didn’t give you any reason to.”

Daryl ran his fingers through the thick mane of Jesus’s hair, enjoying the softness of it and the way Jesus closed his eyes and moaned at the touch.  He leaned down and kissed him again.  He missed the teeth this time, but their noses still bumped.  Jesus chuckled and rubbed his nose against Daryl’s.

“I ain’t very good at this,” Daryl said, sighing as he pulled back.  “Sorry.”

 “I think you’re doing fine.”

“I ain’t been with a man before.”  Daryl sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.  “The old man would’ve beat me bloody for even thinkin’ about it.”  He dug out his ashtray and lit a cigarette.   “There were women – Merle made sure of that – but it never felt right.”

Somehow, it was easier to repeat it all now.  Maybe because he had already talked it through once with Aaron.  Maybe because he and Jesus had gotten so close.  Maybe both.  He could admit his fears and worries – though it was still a bit embarrassing.  But he wanted Jesus to know everything before they went any further with this.

Jesus sat next to Daryl and listened without interrupting.  His heart broke at what Daryl had been through, but it was encouragement that Daryl needed now rather than sympathy.  When he had finished and crushed out his cigarette, Jesus took Daryl’s face in his hands, looking him in the eye.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.  It’s just new to you.”  He wrapped his arms around Daryl and rested his head on his shoulder when Daryl returned the embrace.

“I wanted you to know,” Daryl muttered, pulling back.  “In case I can’t …”

“Don’t overthink it.  We’ll take it slow – one step at a time.”

Daryl let out a shaky breath and nodded.  He lit another cigarette, and Jesus could see that his hands were trembling a bit.  He scooted closer to put his arm through Daryl’s and take his hand, lacing their fingers together.  He laid his head on his shoulder, and they sat that way, holding hands while Daryl smoked, for several minutes.

“I never worried about it before,” Daryl finally said, taking a last drag and crushing out the cigarette.  “It didn’t matter if I couldn’t do it or wasn’t good at it then ‘cause it never felt right.”  Gathering his courage, he shifted and looked Jesus in the eye.  “This feels right so it matters now.”

Jesus could feel the tension and nerves building up in Daryl so he tried a different tack.  “What happened the first time you used a crossbow?”

Daryl blinked in confusion.  “What?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Shot wide.  Blew out the tire on my uncle’s truck.”

“How did you get to be such a good shot?”

“I practiced,” Daryl said, shrugging.  “Wanted to prove I could be good at somethin’.”

“Exactly,” Jesus said, beaming a wide smile and squeezing Daryl’s hand.  “This isn’t any different.  You just need practice.  Kiss me again.”

Daryl hesitated for a second, then leaned in and captured his lips, slipping his tongue through them to tangle with Jesus’s.  He sank into the kiss, just letting himself feel it, and ran his trembling hands over Jesus’s back and, hesitantly, over his hips.  Jesus moaned into his mouth, and he grew a little bolder, squeezing his hips and sliding his hands around to his ass. When he lifted his head, Jesus smiled.

“See?  No bumping noses that time.”  He leaned forward to flick his tongue around the shell of Daryl’s ear and nipped at his earlobe, enjoying the way Daryl tightened his arms around him and that low rumble in his throat.  Keeping his mouth close to his ear, he spoke softly. “I’m willing to practice as much – and as often – as you want.”

Daryl’s fingers dived into Jesus’s hair and pulled his head back for another kiss, all heat and demand.  They fell back on the bed, and their bodies slammed together, vibrating as the kiss grew rough, then nearly brutal.  Daryl’s mouth was hot, almost vicious. The shock of it sent flares of reaction straight to his center, and Jesus could feel him, hot and heavy against his thigh.  With a groan, he twisted, trying to maneuver his hand between them, and a sharp pain shot through his wrist.  

“Oh!  God!”

“What?  Did I hurt you?  Shit.  Fuck.  I’m sorry.  Let me see.”

 “No.  Wait.”  Jesus pushed himself up with his good arm and cradled his wrist.  “My fault.  I forgot.”  He gave a weak laugh.  “Stupid.”

Daryl sat up, lightly stroking over the brace on Jesus’s wrist.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.  It’s easing.  I just twisted the wrong way.”  He moaned softly when Daryl tenderly kissed his fingers and his palm.

“Sorry.  I got carried away.”

“That’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Maybe, but it wasn’t part of the plan.”

“There’s a plan?”

“Yeah.”  Daryl kissed him lightly.  “We never got around to that third date.”

For a moment, Jesus was confused.  Then he remembered and laughed.  “Movies and popcorn.”

“Dinner first,” Daryl said, standing and walking over to the closet.  “Rosita brought your stuff over earlier.  Wasn’t sure if you’d want a shower or not.”

“Is that an invitation?”

Daryl could feel his face heating up again and shook his head.  “Not this time.”

Jesus gave an exaggerated sigh and pouted.  “You don’t know how sorry I am to hear you say that.”

Daryl set Jesus’s pack by the bed.  “Dr. Carson said you needed to rest and take it easy.”  His fingers stroked over the brace on Jesus’s wrist again.  “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m not fragile,” Jesus said, allowing himself another moment to pout and then shaking it off.  “But we did agree to take it slow.  This is a big step for both of us.”

Unable to resist, Daryl leaned down and kissed him again.  “It’s hard.”

“I’ll say,” Jesus said with a pointed look at his crotch.

Daryl stared at him a minute, then he laughed.  “Pervert.”

Jesus grinned and stole another kiss.  “You go take care of whatever smells so good in the kitchen, and I’ll take that shower.”

Daryl just nodded.  Then Jesus was back in his arms for another long, deep kiss.  They pressed against each other, hands roaming, tongues dancing.  Heat gathered like a fireball between them.  With a tortured moan, Jesus pulled away.

“God!  We have to stop before I drag you into the shower with me.” Jesus pushed Daryl out the door, laughing.  “Go cook or something.”

Daryl felt lighter as he made his way downstairs.  Jesus was right.  He needed to get out of his head and stop worrying so much.  After checking the stew, he stepped outside and lit a cigarette.  Jesus could never resist taking long showers here so he had time.  He saw Tara and Eric down the street, both waving and giving him the thumbs up.  He waved them off, lips twitching.  It was embarrassing, but right now, he was feeling too good to be annoyed.  He finished the cigarette and went back inside.

The stew was done so he set the table.  He had candles, but it was still bright outside so he didn’t light them.  He had remembered to open the wine – Eric said it needed to breathe or some shit.  He didn’t get it but figured Eric knew was he was talking about.  He warmed the bread and sat in on the table with a bowl of the herbed oil – which wasn’t bad when he sampled it.  He was ladling the stew into bowls when Jesus came down.

He'd changed into loose sweats and a flannel shirt.  His feet were bare.  His damp hair was pulled up in a bun, a few tendrils escaping to brush the nape of his neck.  The scent from his shower hung in the air, something woodsy and earthy.  Distracted, Daryl splashed a bit of stew on his hand.  Hissing, he started to lick his fingers, turning when Jesus groaned.

Instantly worried, Daryl turned to check on Jesus.  “You okay?”

“No.  You’ve been torturing me with that wicked tongue for weeks now.”  When Daryl just stared at him, he chuckled.  “You really have no idea how sexy that is, do you?”

“What?”  Daryl blinked in confusion as Jesus came closer.

In response, Jesus took his hand and sucked the spilled stew off his fingers, slowly.  The breath clogged up in his lungs as he watched Jesus swirl his tongue around the soft pad of flesh between his thumb and fingers to get a bit of stew that had dripped there.

“What is it?” Jesus asked while Daryl continued to stare at him, lips slightly parted.

“What?”

“In the crockpot.”

“Oh.”  Daryl cleared his throat.  “Rabbit stew.”

Jesus flicked his tongue over the last drop of stew, enjoying Daryl’s reaction.  “Delicious.”  He winked.  “The stew’s good too.”

Leaving Daryl staring, Jesus went over to the table.  “Wow, you really went all out.”  He tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it in the oil.  “This is nice.”

“Eric made it,” Daryl said, setting the bowls on the table and going back for the wine.  “He gave me the wine too.”  He blew out a breath.  “I don’t know much about stuff like that.”

“That just makes it all the more special that you would do this,” Jesus said, taking Daryl’s hand.  “This kind of thing is nice for special occasions, but you don’t have to do it all the time.  I don’t expect you to be anything but who you are.  That’s the man I want.”

"Why?" He held tight to Jesus’s hand. "I don’t get it."

"Why?" Jesus tilted his head. "That's a tricky one. Is it your serenity, your quiet manner, your flawless fashion sense?" He plucked at a stray thread on Daryl’s sleeveless shirt, and it did his heart good to hear Daryl snort out a laugh.

"That ain’t me."

"No, I must be thinking of someone else." He touched his lips to Daryl’s.  “It must be your courage, your loyalty, that restless mind, and that sweet corner of your heart that pushes you to care so much about so many.” He brushed Daryl’s hair out of his eyes and stroked his fingers along his face, smiling.  “You’re smart, self-reliant, and – bonus for me – sexy has hell.”  He poured wine into their glasses.  “And I’m going to tell you and show you as often as I can until you believe that.”

Daryl squirmed a little in his chair.  “You make me sound like some kind of saint.”

“Not a saint by any means,” Jesus said, chuckling.  “I’m not blind to your faults, Daryl.  We all have them – we’re human.  We’ll annoy each other at times.  We’ll have fights and make mistakes.  We’ll apologize – and hopefully have amazing makeup sex.”  He brushed his mouth silkily over Daryl’s.   “I see you for who you are.  You’re not perfect, but that makes you just exactly right.”

Daryl couldn’t speak for a moment.  He looked at their hands, fingers still entwined.  “I can’t say it like you do – ain’t got the words for it.  But you’re exactly right too.”  He let out a shuddering breath.  “Okay.  Enough mushy stuff.  You need to eat.”

Jesus laughed and planted a noisy kiss on Daryl’s cheek before they dug into the stew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone feels this was worth the wait - and there's more to come in the next chapter! Thanks so much for all the lovely comments and kudos. I love feedback so I appreciate it very much. Thanks to violetverdeau for beta reading this for me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Jesus finally have their third date.

Daryl found himself relaxing and enjoying himself as they ate.  Things had changed but had also stayed the same.  It was easy to fall into their routine banter.  Jesus somehow managed to tease and flirt even when they were talking about things as mundane as supply runs.  Really, the only difference was that Daryl knew he wasn’t just joking around now, and Jesus couldn’t seem to stop touching him - playing with his fingers, stroking his arm, or just holding his hand.  Daryl didn’t mind that at all. 

Jesus felt his headache creeping back and, once again, mentally kicked himself for being so stupid about going on that search mission.  His fantasy dates with Daryl had not included him passing out from a concussion.  He didn’t want to miss a single moment of this night.  He’d dreamed about it for so long but had never let himself believe it would actually happen.  Now it seemed almost too good to be true.  He marveled at every kiss, every touch, and just knowing he didn’t have to hold back anymore.  If not for the ache in his wrist and the pounding starting up in the back of his head, he’d be afraid he was still sleeping in the infirmary, dreaming it all.

“We can add cooking to that list,” he said, pushing his empty bowl away.  “That was amazing.”

“You’ll be disappointed,” Daryl responded with a grin.  “Other than fryin’ up meat and scramblin’ eggs, this is the only thing I know how to cook.”

“Well, it’s delicious so it still counts.”

“If you say so,” Daryl said, rising to clear the table.

Jesus took a minute to try to clear his head before getting up to help.  He put the wine away and switched to water, hoping to ease the pounding.  While Daryl put the leftover stew away, Jesus washed out their bowls and the crockpot.  He was both surprised and pleased when he felt Daryl’s arms come around him from behind.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“There wasn’t that much,” Jesus said, leaning back against him.  Once he finished rinsing, he turned in Daryl’s arms, wrapped his arms around him, and brushed their lips together.  “All done.”

“You should be restin’,” Daryl said, leaning in for a deeper kiss.

“You still owe me popcorn and movies.”

“Got that set up in the bedroom so you can lay down.”

“You don’t have a TV in your bedroom,” Jesus said, sitting on a stool at the island counter.  He rubbed the back of his head absently while he watched Daryl start fixing popcorn.

“It’s in that cabinet,” Daryl said with a shrug.  “Never used it before.  Carl helped me hook everything up, and Tara brought some movies over.”

Jesus looked through the stack of DVD’s on the counter.  “Oh, _The Princess Bride_!  We have to watch this one first.”

“I was thinkin’ _Die Hard_.”

“We’ll watch that one after.  You’ll like _The Princess Bride_.  Trust me.  It’s a great comedy.”

“Okay.”  Daryl was skeptical, but he felt it was only fair to let Jesus pick the movie since he was hurt.

When the popcorn was done, Daryl put it in a bowl and rinsed out the pan.  He glanced around the kitchen to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.  Michonne would have his hide if he left a mess for her to clean up.  Jesus was still sitting on the stool, occasionally rubbing his head.  Daryl grabbed the bowl of popcorn and looked over at Jesus.

“Let’s go on up.”

Jesus grabbed the DVD’s and stood, the room spinning just a bit.  He steadied himself on the counter, hoping Daryl hadn’t noticed.  But, of course, he had.  Daryl was at his side, wrapping an arm around him before he could take a step.

“I’ve got your medicine upstairs,” he said, gently stroking Jesus’s back.

“The pain pills make me sleepy,” Jesus said, giving in and leaning into Daryl as they went up the steps.  “I don’t want to sleep.  I want …”

“We’ve got the house to ourselves for the next couple of days.  Plenty of time.”  Daryl set the popcorn on the table by the bed and pulled Jesus into a hug.  “You’re hurtin’.  Don’t be stubborn.”

“Are you going to take care of me?”

“Yeah.”  Daryl kissed him lightly and nudged him towards the bed before getting the pain pill and the salve.

“Fine,” Jesus said, sighing.  He stood by the bed but didn’t sit yet.  “One condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re wearing too many clothes.  I’m practically in my jammies here, and you’ve still got your pants tied around your boots.”

Daryl looked down at his feet and shrugged.  “Habit.  Don’t even notice it most of the time.”

“You must have some sweats or something.  Get comfortable so we can snuggle, and I won’t complain about the pain pills.”

Amused, Daryl sat down to undo the ties around his pants and take off his boots.  He rummaged in his drawers and found a pair of sweats.  He debated about changing in the bathroom but caught Jesus raising his eyebrow as he put the DVD into the player.  What the hell.  It wasn’t like Jesus hadn’t already seen his ass.  Still, he turned his back to Jesus while he stripped down and put on the sweats.  He didn’t bother with a shirt.

“Mhm, that’s much better.”  Jesus ran his hands over Daryl’s shoulders and arms as he turned down the covers on the bed and sat down.

“Even in pain, you’re a pervert,” Daryl said, shaking his head and chuckling as he handed Jesus the pill and some water.

“Can’t help it,” Jesus said, taking the pill.  He stood in front of Daryl, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him.  “Just looking at you makes me want you.”  

Daryl didn’t know what to say.  He felt his heart do a slow turn in his chest, and all he could do was hold on and kiss Jesus back.  When Jesus lifted his head, Daryl held up the salve.

“I’m supposed to put this on the scrapes and bruises.”

“I like that part,” Jesus said, unbuttoning his shirt.

Daryl watched as Jesus shrugged out of the shirt.  His eyes tracked down Jesus’s chest and stomach, then over to the mottled bruising on his side.  He took a couple of slow, deep breaths but didn’t move.

“Daryl,” Jesus said, drawing Daryl’s eyes back to his face.  “You don’t have to ask.  You can touch me.”

“I know.”  Daryl cleared his throat and ran one hand lightly over Jesus’s chest to reassure him.  “It’s not that.  I was just thinkin’ that you wouldn’t have been hurt if I hadn’t froze up like that.”

“Funny.  I was thinking that I might not have gotten hurt if I hadn’t been stupid about going on that search mission.  Or if I hadn’t run off in temper to begin with.”  Jesus rubbed Daryl’s shoulder lightly.  “It’s my fault I got hurt.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Daryl didn’t say anything for a minute.  There was something he hadn’t told Jesus yet.  He looked down at the tube of salve.  “I wasn’t tryin’ to get myself killed,” he said softly.

“What?”

“That day – with the saviors.  I wasn’t …”  He took a breath and met Jesus’s eyes.  “They were gonna find you.  Couple more steps, and they’d have seen you.  I panicked.  I couldn’t warn you without them hearin’ so I figured I’d draw ‘em away.”

Jesus blinked.  “You were trying to protect me.”

“Yeah.”  Daryl leaned in a placed a soft kiss over one of the bruises, feeling Jesus’s stomach muscles tighten at the touch of his lips.

Jesus’s breath hitched as Daryl softly kissed each bruise and scrape before gently rubbing salve over them.  “You’re …”  He cleared his throat.  “You’re very good at that.”

Daryl blushed, but he was smiling as he put the cap back on the tube.  He wiped his fingers on a rag and scooted back against the headboard, patting the bed between his legs.

“Come on.  Let’s take care of that headache.”

Jesus crawled onto the bed and leaned back against Daryl while he grabbed the remote to start the movie.

“This is nice.”

“Here.” Daryl nudged him to sit up and dug his fingers into Jesus’s shoulders.

“Oh …  That’s even better.” He leaned back into Daryl’s hands. “We should come up with some hand signals.”

Daryl worked his thumbs up the back of Jesus’s neck, making him groan. As his stomach knotted in response, Daryl realized he wasn’t doing himself any favors. “Hand signals?”

Jesus’s voice went a little thick, a little sleepy when Daryl kneaded his neck. “Mmm … yeah.  Hand signals.  So we can warn each other without giving away our position.”  He tipped his head forward.  “Saviors, walkers, whatever ...”

Daryl tortured himself, running his hands down Jesus’s biceps, back up to his shoulders.  “That’s a good idea.”   He pulled Jesus back against him and took the band out of his hair, letting it spill over his hands.  As the movie began, he ran his fingers through Jesus’s hair and gently massaged his scalp.

Jesus closed his eyes and listened to the grandfather telling his grandson about the book he was going to read, enjoying the feeling of Daryl’s fingers running through his hair.  The headache had backed off, but he didn’t feel any need to mention that.  He was considering different ways he could try to seduce Daryl as he dropped into sleep and just barely felt the kiss Daryl pressed against his cheek.

He woke slowly to the feeling of Daryl’s hand lightly stroking his chest.  He shifted to snuggle in closer.  He vaguely registered the sounds from the movie, then Daryl’s chuckle sent warm breath over his ear.  He shivered in response.

“Cold?”  Daryl tightened his arms around Jesus.

"No." He stroked his fingers over Daryl’s forearms. His headache was gone, and so was that vague other-worldly feeling that had been creeping up on him.  "How long was I out?"

“Not sure,” Daryl said, nodding towards the TV.  “They’re gettin’ ready to storm the castle.”

“I slept through almost the whole movie.”

“Want me to start it over?”

“No,” Jesus shook his head.  “Just let it play out.”

Jesus ate some of the dwindling popcorn as they watched the end of the movie, pleased that Daryl was enjoying it.  He loved hearing Daryl laugh and feeling the low rumble of it in his chest.  When the credits rolled, he shifted and turned his head so he could nibble at Daryl’s earlobe.  He smiled when Daryl shivered.

“Cold?” Jesus asked, mischievously.

“No.”  When Daryl let his head fall back, Jesus raised up the straddle him, licking and nibbling down the side of his neck.

“Daryl?”  Jesus swiped his tongue along Daryl’s collarbone and worked his way up to his mouth.

Daryl shuddered, and his breath hitched as he whispered, “Yeah?”

“I’m feeling much.”  He brushed his lips against Daryl’s. “Much.”  He nipped at his bottom lip.  “Better.”

“Good,” Daryl said breathlessly, nipping Jesus’s lip in return.  “That’s good.”

Jesus pressed his hips to Daryl’s and rocked lightly, causing him to gasp.  He swept his tongue inside his mouth, and Daryl could taste the salt from the popcorn.  Daryl pulled him closer, his hands running over his back and skimming up his sides.  When his fingers brushed over a rough patch of scraped skin, he hesitated and pulled back.

“It’s okay,” Jesus reassured him, keeping their hips pressed together.  “I promise that if you do anything that hurts – or even something I just don’t like – I’ll tell you.  And you’ll do the same for me.  Okay?”

Daryl could only nod, caught in the intensity of Jesus’s eyes.  His hands trembled as he skimmed them lightly over Jesus’s sides again.  He stopped again when Jesus twitched and laughed.

“Okay, we have to add anything that tickles to that,” Jesus said, relieved to see Daryl’s quick grin.  He leaned in and kissed him again, swirling their tongues together until they were both breathless.  “Touch me, Daryl.”  He ran his hand over Daryl’s chest, rolling his nipple between his fingers, causing Daryl to gasp again.  “I want you to.  Just follow my lead.”

Daryl pulled him into another kiss and scooted them both down to lay flat on the bed.  Jesus responded by sucking on his tongue and rubbing his cock into Daryl’s.  Daryl moaned and arched up with the zing of heat that shot from his groin up his spine. Jesus thrust again, and Daryl slipped his hands from Jesus’s hips down the back of his sweats, feeling the warm skin against his palms.  Jesus moaned into his mouth as they rocked their hips together, and Daryl could swear that he saw stars.

Jesus pulled back and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Daryl’s sweats, looking into Daryl’s eyes as he started to tug them down.  Daryl hesitated as nerves built up but lifted his hips so Jesus could pull the pants off him.  He closed his eyes, feeling Jesus’s hands slowly stroking up his thighs.

“Magnificent,” Jesus said softly.  He slid his hands up Daryl’s thighs, over his stomach and chest, feeling every tremble and quake.  He leaned forward and swiped his tongue over Daryl’s stomach, licking and nibbling a trail up to his chest.  Daryl’s muscles quivered against his lips, and he curled his fingers into Jesus’s hair.  “So damn gorgeous.”  He flicked his tongue over a nipple, and Daryl moaned.

“Paul,” he murmured, arching his back and pulling Jesus’s mouth closer to his skin.  He gripped Jesus’s hips tight as every doubt and fear played through his mind on an endless loop.

Jesus smiled and continued to lave Daryl’s nipples with his tongue, gently pulling at them with his teeth.  He loved watching Daryl come apart beneath his hands. Almost mindless, Daryl grabbed at his sweats and started tugging them down.  Jesus wiggled and kicked his feet free.  He then stretched out over Daryl, kissing him slow and deep before sliding his cock over Daryl’s.

“Easy,” he murmured against Daryl’s lips when he bucked beneath him.  “Stop thinking.”  He nibbled along Daryl’s jaw and flicked his tongue over his earlobe.  “Just feel.”

Daryl couldn’t do anything but feel.  His entire body felt over sensitized, like one giant exposed nerve.  The rough scrape of Jesus’s beard against his neck.  Warm breath drifting over his ear.  Soft lips pressing against his skin.  That warm, wet tongue licking little trails of fire over him.  The slip and slide of their cocks creating delicious friction.  Then Jesus wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and erased every other thought from his head.  He attacked Jesus’s neck with his tongue and teeth, sucking and biting his way along his shoulder.  His toes curled.  His hips pumped.  Heat centered in his groin.

“Can’t,” he panted, tightening his arms around Jesus.  “Too much.”

“It’s okay,” Jesus moaned into his ear.  “Just let go.”  He pressed his mouth back to Daryl’s, sucking on his tongue.  Seeing Daryl fall apart like this had him so close, but he wanted Daryl to go over with him. He rolled his hips and stroked their cocks together through slippery precome and sweat.  Daryl groaned into his mouth as his body went taut and he came.  Jesus felt his own orgasm rip through him and buried his face in Daryl’s neck as they rode it out together.

Daryl was still shuddering when Jesus collapsed on top of him with a whispered, “Wow.”  Their heartbeats thumped rapidly against each other where their chests met.  He didn’t think he could move if the house was on fire.  He lay boneless, feeling Jesus’s panting breaths against his neck, almost matching the rhythm of his own.

“Can’t feel my legs.”

Jesus raised his head and grinned at him.  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Daryl gave a shaky laugh as Jesus reached over to get the rag he had used to wipe his hands earlier and started to clean them up.  He hissed, and his hips bucked when the rag brushed over the tip of his cock.

“Mmm … sensitive,” Jesus said with a grin.

“You’re tryin’ to kill me.”

Jesus laughed as he tossed the rag back on the table and stretched out next to Daryl.  “Definitely not.”  He leaned over and brushed his lips against Daryl’s.  “I have other plans for you.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Daryl said, turning so they were facing each other.  He ran his hand over Jesus’s hip, up his back, and down his arm.  He held the braced wrist and, again, kissed Jesus’s fingers.  “Your wrist okay?”

“Yeah,” Jesus said, warmth spreading through him.  “I was careful this time.”

“Headache?”

“No,” Jesus said, almost purring as Daryl ran his fingers through his hair.  “Right now, nothing hurts.”

“Good,” Daryl murmured, kissing him tenderly.

Jesus snuggled in as Daryl pulled him close and rested his chin on top of his head while he continued to glide his hands over Jesus’s back.  He’d never felt this close – this connected – to anyone before.  He thought his heart might burst with happiness.  He didn’t care how sappy that sounded even in his own head.  Daryl was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“I love you,” he sighed.  He winced as Daryl stiffened against him, and he realized he’d said it out loud.  Hesitantly, he tilted his head back to look at Daryl.  But it wasn’t fear or panic on his face.  He just looked stunned.  “Too soon?”

“No,” Daryl said, willing himself to relax and resuming the gentle strokes along Jesus’s back.  “Just didn’t expect you to …”  He frowned, trying to figure out how to say it.  “Told you before I don’t have the words like you.”

Jesus raised up on his elbow “You don’t have to …”

Daryl hushed him with a kiss.  “Yeah, I do.”  He took a deep breath.  “I love you too.  Think I have for a while now, but it didn’t really sink in until I realized how close I came to losin’ you.”

The emotion that swept through Jesus was like a summer storm: quick, violent, then clean. Swamped with it, he rested his brow on Daryl's.  “I thought you might need more time.”

“Wasted enough time,” Daryl murmured, thinking about what Aaron had said to him.

“I guess we have,” Jesus replied, letting Daryl pull him back down into a kiss.

For a while they just lay there, cuddled together in the middle of the bed.  Daryl thought about getting up to start the next movie, but he didn’t want to move.  He felt loose and relaxed.  He didn’t think he’d ever been this happy in his entire life.  Everything seemed wonderfully perfect right now.  He had his family.  Their home was safe.  He was in love.  _Paul loves me._   He rubbed his cheek against the top of Jesus’s head with a sigh.  When the song popped into his head, it caught him by surprise, and he couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.

“What?”  Jesus looked up as Daryl started shaking with laughter.  “What’s so funny?”

Daryl rolled onto his back, unable to stop laughing.  Jesus poked him in the side. Then he could only stare as Daryl started to hum what was unmistakably ‘Jesus loves me’.

“Really?”

“It’s my new favorite song,” Daryl said, still chuckling.

Jesus grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it.  That just started Daryl laughing again, and he grabbed Jesus, rolling him over and singing softly in his ear.  “Yes, Jesus loves me.  Yes, Jesus loves me.”

“Cut it out, you moron,” Jesus said, trying to sound indignant.  But he couldn’t stop his own laugh from bubbling out.  His efforts to push Daryl off were only halfhearted.  It was rare to see Daryl so playful, and he loved it.  Even if his nickname was the butt of the joke.  Finally, he managed to flip Daryl over and, straddling him, kissed him hard on the mouth before getting up.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”  He tried for a dignified exit, but Daryl started humming again, and he couldn’t hold back the chuckle.

Still humming, Daryl got up and put _Die Hard_ in the DVD player.  Deciding that Jesus had the right idea, he used the other bathroom and went downstairs for more water.  When he got back to the bedroom, Jesus grabbed one of the waters and downed half of it.

“Thanks.  Those pain pills make my mouth dry.”

Daryl held out his hand.  “It’s just Tylenol,” he said when Jesus looked at the pills and sighed.  He lightly stroked over the bandage on Jesus’s forehead.  “Don’t want you to be in pain,” he murmured.  “We’ll see if this will help you stay ahead of it.”

Jesus couldn’t argue with that so he took the pills.  At least Tylenol wouldn’t make him sleepy.  Getting back into bed, he patted the space next to him and batted his eyes.  Daryl snorted out a laugh and lay next to him, starting the movie. 

Cuddling was still a new experience for Daryl, but he liked it.  Jesus had wrapped a leg and an arm around him and laid his head on Daryl’s chest.  He idly toyed with Daryl’s chest hair and would occasionally shift his leg so it rubbed against Daryl’s.  Daryl found himself losing interest in the movie.  He played with Jesus’s hair, running his fingers through the length of it.  Then he ran his hand over Jesus’s shoulders and back, exploring the planes and angles.

Daryl thought for a moment that Jesus had fallen asleep again, but he shifted and looked up at him.  He traced his fingers over Jesus’s lips and leaned in to kiss him.  Tender this time.  Warmth instead of fire.  He rolled Jesus onto his back and deepened the kiss.  He slid his tongue over Jesus’s throat and dipped it into the little hollow next to his collarbone, exploring and savoring.

Jesus made a purring sound and languidly stroked his hands over Daryl’s back.  He flicked his tongue over Daryl’s ear and that sensitive spot on the back of his neck.  Daryl moaned and lifted his head to look him in the eye.

“I can’t think when you do that.”

“If you could, I wouldn’t be doing it right.”

Daryl flashed a grin but shook his head.  “I want to,” he said softly, stroking the side of Jesus’s face with his fingers.  “You did most of it before.  I want …”  He lowered his eyes, blushing.

Jesus smiled, and warmth filled him as he understood what Daryl was asking.  Knowing how new all of this was for Daryl, he should have thought of this himself.  Shifting slightly, he laced his fingers behind his head and lay back.  “I’m all yours.”

Nerves returned, and Daryl’s stomach clutched.  He didn’t know what he was doing.  His hand trembled slightly on Jesus’s chest.  He cleared his throat.  “You’ll tell me if …”

“If anything hurts, or I just don’t like it,” Jesus said, gently laying his hand over Daryl’s.  “And you’ll do the same.”  He cupped the back of Daryl’s head and pulled him into a kiss.  “You were doing fine.  Just pick up where you left off.  I was enjoying it.”

Jesus lay back again, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.  For a minute, Daryl just looked at him.  Sparse hair nestled against creamy skin.  Taut muscles that bunched slightly when he slid his hand over Jesus’s chest.  He ran his fingers over Jesus’s throat, into that little hollow by his collarbone.  He pressed his lips to it again and swirled his tongue into it, encouraged when Jesus made that purring sound again.  He licked and nibbled his way across Jesus’s shoulders, using the sounds Jesus made as his guide.

Daryl wanted to look, touch, and taste – to hear those little sounds Jesus made when he hit the right spots.  Carefully avoiding the bruises and scrapes, he slid both hands over Jesus’s chest, up to his shoulders, and back down his stomach.  He circled his thumbs over Jesus’s nipples, feeling them tighten.  He followed the same path with his mouth, licking and nibbling.  He scraped his teeth over one nipple, swirled his tongue over it, and Jesus arched into him, whimpering.

Feeling bolder, he gave the other nipple the same treatment and ran his hands over Jesus’s stomach, down to his hips and thighs.  He traced the ridges of muscles over Jesus’s stomach with his tongue, feeling them tighten and quiver.  The sound of Jesus moaning urged him on.

Daryl wasn’t intentionally being coy or trying to tease.  He was gearing himself up for the next step.  He studied Jesus’s cock.  It was already hard and leaking precome so Daryl knew that Jesus was enjoying this.  He was curious how it would taste, but he didn’t think he was ready for that yet.  He thought he could handle a hand job though.  It couldn’t be that much different from jacking himself off.  Shifting, Daryl ran his hands down Jesus’s hips and stroked up and down his inner thighs.

Jesus had always considered sex simple.  It had always been quick, straightforward, and satisfied a basic need. There was nothing simple about this.  He’d anticipated a kind of massage, letting Daryl get comfortable with touching and kissing.  But this was tangling emotions, a war on the system, a battering of the senses.  His body shivered like a plucked wire as Daryl slowly took him apart with his hands and – _Oh God_ \- that marvelous tongue.

The need built up quickly, like grinding teeth inside him.  He gripped the sheet tightly, fighting the urge to grab Daryl and kiss him senseless.  To use his own hands and mouth to bring them both the release his body craved.  He reminded himself that wasn’t what Daryl wanted right now.  He moaned louder when Daryl started stroking his inner thighs and whimpered when Daryl’s hands stopped moving.  He lifted his hips in a silent plea, but Daryl just stared, turning his head to the side with a slightly confused expression.  Finally, he cupped his hand around Jesus’s balls, stroking lightly with his thumb.

Jesus hissed out a breath, but Daryl only continued the light, teasing strokes with that confused expression.  “There’s no … umm … it’s …”

“Shaved,” Jesus panted through clenched teeth as his hips bucked against Daryl’s hand.  “I can … _oh God_ … do yours later … _oh fuck_ … if you want.”

“No,” Daryl said, automatically rejecting the idea of a razor anywhere near his junk.  But he was fascinated by the smooth skin and rolled Jesus’s balls in his hand, making him whimper again.  “Why?”

“It’s cleaner … _mmm_ … won’t get hair in your mouth and … _oh fuck_ … it just feels good.”  Jesus rolled his hips up towards Daryl’s hand.  “Daryl … _please_.”

Daryl stretched back out next to Jesus and kissed him, swirling their tongues together while continuing to fondle his balls.  Seeing Jesus like this had his own cock hard and leaking so he made no protest when Jesus grabbed onto him.  Hesitantly, he slid his hand up and wrapped it around Jesus’s cock.  The feel was familiar, and that took the edge off his anxiety.  He started stroking slowly, building up a rhythm and drawing another long hiss of breath from Jesus.

“Oh fuck,” Jesus whispered against his mouth.  “Yes.  Just like that.”

Daryl ran his thumb over the slit, spreading precome as he continued to stroke.  He thought Jesus was close.  His hips bucked and pumped against Daryl’s hand as he muttered gibberish and cursed.  Daryl stroked faster, kissing and licking his way down Jesus’s throat.  He kept stroking as Jesus’s body tensed, and he moaned against Daryl’s throat as he came.  His orgasm was the most erotic thing Daryl had ever seen.  He kissed Jesus again and ran his hand over his hair and down his back as his breath shuddered out. He reached over to grab the rag to clean Jesus up.

Jesus gave himself a minute to catch his breath before fisting his hands in Daryl’s hair and flipping them over.  “That was amazing,” he panted between kisses.  “You’re amazing.”  And so damn adorable when he blushed, but he kept that thought to himself.  He’d thought the intensity of his previous orgasm had been due to not having sex in so long, but now he thought it was just being with Daryl that made everything feel so extraordinary.  He licked and nibbled his way over Daryl’s throat and started working his way down.

Daryl was silent as Jesus’s tongue teased a hot trail down his chest and stomach.  When Jesus’s hand cupped his balls, he wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.  Then Jesus’s lips closed over his cock, and he sucked in a swig of air. He automatically grabbed Jesus’s head, his gut twisting with the heat of that mouth and the rough scrape of his beard.  Daryl’s head fell back while he exhaled in bursts.

Jesus pulled Daryl’s hips closer, burying his cock in his throat and twisting his head in such a way that Daryl felt weak. He swirled his tongue around the head, then swallowed the length again.  Thrusting forward with every slide of Jesus’s tongue, Daryl’s breath stuttered, held, stuttered again before he was just panting every exhale. Jesus scraped his teeth over the ridge of his cock, and light exploded behind his eyes.  Or maybe it was the explosions on the television.  He couldn’t tell.

“Paul … fuck.” Daryl jerked, his legs trembled, and pleasure expanded from his groin like a tipped bottle of heated oil. The intense wave of heat tore through his body. He tensed, fisting his hands in Jesus’s hair as he came into his throat. Jesus didn’t stop sucking—making Daryl’s body jerk again with his tongue swirling over the sensitive head.  Jesus slid his tongue over the shaft one last time before curling up next to him.

This was, Daryl thought as his brain began to engage again, turning out to be the most incredible night of his life.  He buried his face against Jesus’s throat with his breath whistling like an old teakettle and locked his arms around him.  The sheets were hot and tangled, and his body still pumped heat like a furnace.

“Christ …”  His lips formed the word against Jesus’s throat, causing his pulse pick up speed again.  “Jesus, Paul.”

“Pick one,” Jesus said, grinning.  “It gets confusing if you use both.”

Daryl chuckled against his throat, sending shivers down his spine.  “Guess I walked into that one.”

Jesus only smiled and kissed him, stroking his hands over Daryl’s body as his breathing leveled out.  For a while, they just lay there, listening to final scenes of the movie.

“I always liked that Al got to take out the last terrorist,” Jesus said, yawning as he turned the TV off and leaned over Daryl to set the remote on the bedside table.  “Big heroic moment for him.”

“Yeah.  He had McClane’s back.”  Daryl shifted to pull the covers over them and wrapped his arms back around Jesus.  “Gotta respect that.”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

“Good.”  Daryl stifled a yawn as he nuzzled Jesus’s neck.  “I ain’t done with you either.  This is just a short recess.”

“Okay.”  Jesus snuggled in close with another yawn.

“Love you,” Daryl said, sleepily.

“Love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters. Real life interfered with writing unfortunately. I hope it was worth the wait. I've changed the rating on this from mature to explicit due to the sexual content being ... well ... explicit. lol Once again, thanks so much for all the lovely comments and kudos. I love feedback so I appreciate it very much. Thanks to violetverdeau for beta reading this for me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosita comes by to give Jesus a checkup. Tara and Eric decide that's a great time to pay a visit but Daryl just wants to be alone with Jesus.

Jesus awoke as the sun broke over the horizon. The pale orange of its rays flooded through the window.  For a moment, he thought he might still be dreaming but the events from the day before came flooding back. He knew the arms around him, the legs tangled with his. He knew the scent of him and drifted into it as his mind waded through the thinning fog of sleep.  He smiled and linked his fingers with Daryl’s, causing him to shift and pull Jesus even closer to him.  The scruff from Daryl’s beard tickled his shoulder, but he didn’t mind.  This was everything he’d dreamed and hoped for. 

He’d never let himself believe it could actually happen, and he’d never been so happy to be wrong in his entire life.  Daryl loved him and had taken such care to show him.  It wasn’t just the sex – though that had been incredible.  But even if they’d only had dinner and watched movies, yesterday would still be the best day of his life.  He wanted to laugh at himself because he was getting sappy again, but he was too happy to care.

“Quit thinkin’ so loud,” Daryl mumbled groggily against his shoulder. 

Jesus rolled over to face Daryl.  He looked so peaceful.  Jesus didn’t think he’d ever seen Daryl so relaxed.  He tried to judge the time by the soft light sliding through the window, tried to calculate how much sleep they'd managed to catch. It couldn't be much considering they'd woken twice through the night, hungry for each other all over again. 

It was just fucking great.

"Still too loud," he murmured. "Mute your brain."

It made Jesus smile, the slurry voice, the before-coffee irritability.  He thought about slipping out of bed to fix them some coffee and scrounge up something to eat because he was hungry.  But he wanted just a few more minutes to watch Daryl sleep and enjoy the way he was holding him.  He was still grinning when Daryl opened those fabulous eyes of his. Like a blue bolt of lightning, he thought, instantly alert, and ever so mildly amused.

"Not gonna shut up, are you?"

"I guess I could think about something else." He stroked a hand down Daryl's flank. Watching his eyes as he glided it up again between their tangled legs and over his hip.

"Yeah?" Jesus's mouth was already roaming over his face, just missing his lips in teasing little bites.  “Like what?”  His mind was slowly catching up to his body’s response to Jesus’s busy lips and fingers.

“Like breakfast,” Jesus said as he moved to get out of bed.  “I’m starving, and I need coffee.”

He laughed as Daryl, surprisingly quick, snagged his arm around him and pinned him, kissing him breathless.

“Tease,” Daryl muttered, smirking.

“It’s only a tease if you don’t intend to follow through.”  Jesus tried to wiggle out from under Daryl but was held firmly in place.  He moaned as Daryl placed wet kisses along his throat and caressed his ass.  “I have every intention of following through.  After breakfast.”

Daryl lifted his head and grinned as Jesus’s stomach rumbled loudly.  “Guess I could feed you first.”

“You don’t have to …”

Daryl hushed him with another kiss.  “Gonna do it anyway.”

“Of course you are.”  Jesus sighed in resignation as Daryl got up and pulled on his sweatpants. 

“Shouldn’t take too long.”

Since Daryl was taking care of breakfast, Jesus made a quick trip to the bathroom and then brushed the tangles out of his hair.  He thought about going down to help Daryl but heard him coming back up the stairs before he could get his pants on.

“That was quick,” he said as Daryl came in carrying a tray with 2 plates and 2 cups of coffee.

“Coffee pot has a timer,” Daryl replied with a shrug.  “I know how you are about coffee so I set it up last night.  All I had to do was scramble up some eggs.”

Jesus grabbed his cup and drank deep.  “You really are the man of my dreams.”

“That’s the coffee talkin’.”

“Not completely,” Jesus said, kissing Daryl before grabbing his plate.  “Some of it’s the eggs.”

“Smartass.”

Jesus only smiled as he dug into his breakfast. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How the hell did I let you talk me into this?”

Daryl sat on the edge of the bench in the shower, trying not to squirm as Jesus made the first swipe with the razor.  Which wasn’t easy since the little shit had also taken his time lathering him up with soap so Daryl was hard as a rock. 

“Guess it’s hard to argue with a guy when he’s got your dick in his mouth,” Jesus said, smirking as he gave Daryl another stroke.

Daryl groaned, and his head fell back against the tiles.  Only the fear of his balls being sliced open kept him from jerking his hips.  He reminded himself that he loved Jesus and trusted him.  And he was going to find a way to pay him back for all this teasing.  Jesus claimed it would be easier to hold his dick out of the way if it was hard, and maybe that was true, but Daryl was sure that he was enjoying keeping him on the edge of orgasm as well. 

Daryl wasn’t entirely wrong.  Jesus did enjoy seeing Daryl like this.  His face flushed, panting, lips slightly parted as he gripped the seat of the bench.  Wet and naked with the steam from the hot shower billowing around him.  Jesus was sure that Daryl had no idea how sexy he looked. 

“You sure that ain’t gonna hurt your wrist?”

“I’m being careful,” Jesus replied, still smirking.  “You’re not getting out of this that way.”

“Christ.”

“I’m almost done.”  Jesus carefully stretched the skin and made quick swipes with the razor.  Hoping to keep Daryl distracted, he asked, “Have you given any thought to whether you’d prefer top or bottom?”

“Top or bottom of what?”  Daryl tilted his head to look at Jesus in confusion but quickly closed his eyes again when he spotted the razor gliding over his balls.

“For sex,” Jesus explained as he stroked his fingers over Daryl’s sac to check for stubble. 

“Can’t do both?”

Jesus beamed a smile at him.  “Of course you can.  If you like both.  Some men don’t.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, so whatever you prefer will be fine.”  Jesus made a few more swipes with the razor and, satisfied there was no stubble left, rinsed off the soap.

“Never done either so how am I supposed to know?”

“Good point.”  Jesus considered for a minute and squirted more soap on his fingers.  He wished they had some lube, but he hadn’t brought any with him.  He brushed his soapy fingers over Daryl’s crack and smiled at him.  “We could try this for now.  See if you like it.”

Daryl moaned as Jesus teased his hole and could only nod, his head falling back against the tiles again as Jesus slipped the tip of one finger inside.  Taking hold of Daryl’s dick again, he slid the flat of his tongue over his freshly shaved balls as he slowly pushed his finger in deeper.

Jesus blurred out of focus, and by the second knuckle, Daryl was dizzy with the need to come.  When Jesus’s finger crooked, Daryl choked out a cry.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” The words became a chant as Jesus added a second finger and pushed in again, going deeper as he licked and sucked on Daryl’s balls and stroked his cock. Daryl’s eyes slammed shut, a blurred myriad of dots dancing against the curtain of black.  Jesus’s pace accelerated in time with his approaching climax.  He slid his tongue up Daryl’s shaft, swirled it around the head, and swallowed his length. 

Daryl fisted his hands in Jesus’s wet hair as he tensed beneath him and came hard, gasping out an explosive breath.  Jesus swallowed and pumped his shaft, continuing to suck until he was sure that Daryl was spent.  Daryl’s hands fell limply to his sides as he sagged back against the tiles, panting.

Jesus sat back on his heels, lightly stroking his own cock as he carefully rinsed the soap away.  Daryl was completely wrecked, and he looked gorgeous.  He could have lapped him up like cream.  He yelped slightly when Daryl grabbed him and pulled him into a deep kiss, reversing their positions.

“I want to …” he panted against Jesus’s lips. 

“Whatever you want.”  Jesus tangled their tongues together in a dirty slide as Daryl’s hands roamed over him frantically.  “Just do whatever comes naturally,” he gasped out as Daryl’s tongue slid down his stomach. 

Daryl wasn’t sure that was much help.  He’d been thinking about it all morning.  Couldn’t stop thinking about it.  He wanted to make Jesus feel as good as he did right now.  But nerves creeped in as he stroked Jesus’s cock.

“Doing fine,” Jesus managed, understanding that Daryl needed the encouragement. 

Daryl stroked slowly, trying to think it through.  Tentatively, he licked at Jesus’s balls, breathing in the musky smell of the soft skin.  Jesus groaned and gripped the back of his neck.  Enjoying the sound, Daryl kept licking and swirling his tongue around Jesus’s sac while picking up the pace of his strokes.

“So good,” Jesus moaned, his head falling back.

Daryl flattened his tongue and licked a broad stripe up the shaft of Jesus’s cock because it had felt good when Jesus had done it to him.  He dipped his tongue into the slit, tasting the precome.  It was salty, a little bitter, but not completely unpleasant. 

“Oh, fuck.”

Daryl swirled his tongue around the head and slowly took Jesus’s length into his mouth, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue on his way down.  When his gag reflex kicked in, he pulled back up.

“Swallow,” Jesus gasped out.  “It’s easier … oh, fuck … if you swallow.”

It suddenly became less about slot A with tab B and more about making Jesus moan louder, jerk his hips like that, catch his breath, bite his lip.  Daryl held onto Jesus’s hips and swallowed, seeing how much he could take in.  Jesus’s moans grew louder, and his hips pumped, instinctively fucking Daryl’s mouth. 

“Oh God, yes, just like that.”

Daryl stroked Jesus’s sac, enjoying how Jesus bucked into his mouth and groaned. Watching Jesus unravel as he worked him over was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Gonna come,” Jesus panted out in warning. 

Daryl sealed his lips around Jesus’s cock and tried to prepare himself for it.  He gagged a bit as come spilled into his mouth, but he managed to swallow most of it and kept licking and sucking until Jesus pulled his head up.

“Can’t …”

Daryl smiled and kissed him tenderly.  He felt Jesus’s heart racing and pressed kisses over his jaw and down his throat as his system settled.  Jesus wrapped his arms around Daryl and sighed into his neck.

“That was …”

“Good?”

“Incredible.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why do we have to get dressed?”

Daryl smirked as Jesus pouted.  “I told you.  Rosita’s comin’ to give you a checkup.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dr. Carson’s orders.”

“I’d rather stay naked and rest in bed with you.”

“After the checkup.”

Jesus rolled his eyes but relented and got dressed.  He found his hair band where Daryl had dropped it next to the table the night before and bundled his damp hair up into a bun.  “At least you didn’t tie your pants around your boots this time.”

Daryl just shook his head as they headed downstairs to answer the door.  Rosita smiled brightly as she came in and looked over at Jesus.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Great.  Are we done now?”  Jesus beamed a wide smile at Rosita.

Rosita laughed and set the bag she’d brought on the table by the sofa.  “No, but I’ll be quick.”

Daryl sat in the chair and tried to get comfortable.  His ass was starting to itch a little bit.  He shifted from side to side as Rosita checked Jesus’s wrist and the scrapes along his side.

“Looks a lot better,” Rosita said as she lowered Jesus’s shirt.

“Daryl’s been taking good care of me.”

“I bet,” she replied, grinning at Daryl.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Daryl said, getting up and going to the kitchen.  “Gettin’ close to lunch time.”

“You’re walking funny.”

Daryl glared at her.  “I said I’m fine.”

“Might be the soap,” Jesus muttered, looking chagrined as Daryl turned the glare on him.

“Soap?”  Rosita looked shocked. 

“We were in the shower …” Jesus started and then stopped when Daryl growled. 

“ _Joder, serás_ _cabrón_!  Why didn’t you use the lube I gave you?”

“You have lube?”  Jesus fought not to smile as Daryl’s face turned red.  Now wasn’t the time to tell him how adorable he was when he blushed.

“Ain’t havin’ this conversation,” Daryl growled.  “I’m fine.”

Rosita rolled her eyes.  “Go up to Judith’s room and get the A+D ointment.  It’ll help.” 

“That’s for diaper rash,” Daryl grumbled.  Even his ears had turned red.

“It’s good for any skin irritation,” Rosita replied.  “You don’t need much.”  She fisted her hands on her hips and met Daryl’s glare with one of her own.  “Don’t be stubborn.”

Daryl stomped up the stairs grumbling about nosy and bossy friends.  Satisfied, Rosita turned back to Jesus.  He cringed as she stared at him.

“I rinsed it off,” he said, looking down at his feet. 

“ _Malditos pendejos_.”  Rosita looked up at the ceiling and shook her head.  “I thought _you_ would know better.”

“I didn’t know he had lube.” 

“There are still better options than soap.”

“We were in the shower.”  Jesus hunched his shoulders.

“That’s no excuse.  Anal sex …”

“I wouldn’t use soap for that,” Jesus interrupted quickly.  “We didn’t …”  Great.  Now _he_ was blushing.

“Okay,” Rosita said, softening.  “It’s probably not that bad.  The ointment will take care of it.”

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“And give up such a great weapon against Daryl?”  Rosita laughed.  “Never.  Back to you.  Have you had any pain or dizziness?”

“A little,” Jesus said, relieved to change the topic.  “Last night, after dinner.  I felt kind of light headed and had a headache.  But I took a nap and it went away.  I feel fine today.”

“That’s good.  If it happens again, just sit down wherever you are.”

“I will.”

Daryl took his time upstairs, hoping Rosita would finish and be gone when he was done.  But he came back down to find that not only was Rosita still there, Tara and Eric had joined her.  He glowered at all three of them.  “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Hello to you too,” Eric said, grinning. 

“We saw Rosita come over and we wanted to see how Jesus was feeling,” Tara said with her usual cheer.

Daryl managed not to snarl as he went back to the fridge and looked for something to fix for lunch.  _For two._   He glared into the fridge, trying to figure out how to get rid of everybody.  He loved his family, but right now, he just wanted to be alone with Jesus.  He couldn’t explain about the lube while they were there.  He dropped his forehead against the fridge and prayed fervently that Rosita hadn’t said anything about that. 

Jesus had more patience than Daryl so he managed to smile and be social while Daryl fixed something to eat.  Loudly with the occasional glare sent towards the trio in the living room.  He liked Rosita, Tara, and Eric – he really did – but he wanted them to leave as much as Daryl did.  He would be going back to Hilltop tomorrow and he wanted to make the most of his last day alone with Daryl. 

“I think you’re good to go,” Rosita said, packing up her kit.  “Remember …”

“If I’m dizzy or light headed, just sit down wherever I am.”

“Or lay down,” Tara said with a grin, glancing over at Daryl.

Jesus couldn’t help but grin back at her.  She and Eric were not being subtle at all.  “That’s what I did last night.  A good night’s sleep worked wonders.”

“You slept?”  Tara’s smile faltered.  “All night?”

“Like a baby.”

“But …”

“Don’t tease her,” Daryl grumbled as he set two plates on the table.  “We’ll never get ‘em to leave.”

Tara’s smile brightened again as Daryl joined them in the living room and placed his hand on Jesus’ shoulder.

“Thanks for the bread and the movies.  We had a great night.  And that’s all I’m tellin’ you so you can leave now.”

“Daryl!” 

“What?  You need to eat.” 

“You don’t have to be rude about it,” Jesus admonished.  He covered Daryl’s hand with his own and smiled when Daryl laced their fingers together.

There was a long beat of silence and speculative stares.

“Stop,” Daryl ordered, glaring back at Eric and Tara.

“You’ve got to expect it.” Tara smiled innocently. “We’re making adjustments here. I think you should lay one on Jesus, right here, so we can use the visual to help us adjust.”

“Cut it out,” Daryl said, feeling his face heat up.

Leaning back, Eric pursed his lips. “For all we know, the two of them are just having a joke at our expense. Pretending to be involved, then laughing at us behind our backs when we buy in to it.”

“Oooh,” Tara murmured. “You’re good.”

“I am,” Eric agreed, a smug smile tugging at his lips as Daryl continued to glare at them.

“Might as well kiss him,” Rosita told Daryl, “or they won’t give you any peace.”

“Kiss!” Tara clapped her hands together. “Kiss!”

Eric picked up the chant. Rosita just laughed and shook her head.

Giving up, Daryl rolled his eyes at the ceiling, then leaned down to a laughing Jesus, and gave him a quick kiss that brought cheers and applause from their friends.

“You guys are really great together,” Tara said, beaming.

"Go away now."  Daryl turned his back on them and went to the table, hoping they wouldn’t notice him blushing.

Deciding not to push their luck, Eric grinned and nodded to Daryl as he pulled Tara towards the door.  "We're gone.  See you later, Jesus."

“Glad you’re feeling better!”  Tara called out as Eric herded her off the porch.

“Keep using that ointment on the scrapes and bruises,” Rosita told Jesus as she followed them out. 

“I will.”  Jesus shut the door behind them and leaned back against it, grinning at Daryl.  “Alone at last.”

Daryl sighed and gestured to the table.  “Finally.  Let’s eat.”

Jesus tried to keep the conversation light while they ate.  Daryl had been so embarrassed before, he didn’t want to bring up the shower or the lube.  At least, not yet.  There were other things they could do to enjoy themselves.  As they finished eating, he scanned the room, trying to think of something.  He spotted a deck of cards on the shelf.

“You want to play gin?” 

Daryl sat back and narrowed his eyes at Jesus.  “We got one night left, and you wanna play cards?” 

 “I thought you might want to,” Jesus said softly, looking down at his plate.

Daryl sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “Look, I should’ve told you about the lube before, but I forgot about it.  I was nervous so …”

“What?”  Jesus interrupted quickly.  “No. It’s not that.  I didn’t think to ask if you had any so that’s on me too.” 

“Then what’s wrong?”

Jesus winced at Daryl’s tone and wondered how he could have screwed this up so quickly.  “I just thought … you were so upset before and …” he slumped back with a sigh.  “I don’t know.  The soap was my idea so I thought …”

“You thought I’d be mad about that?”

“No,” Jesus said, shaking his head.  “No.  It’s just that you were embarrassed, and I thought maybe you needed some time …”  He looked down at the table and rubbed his finger over a smudge.  “Is it sore?”

“No,” Daryl said, taking their plates to the sink.  “It was just itchin’.  Hell, I had worse when I was a kid and wiped my ass with poison oak.”

Jesus stared for a minute as Daryl rinsed off the plates.  “You … wow, that must have been really uncomfortable.”

Daryl smirked at him.  “My ass itched somethin’ awful.”

“I am sorry about the soap.  I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m okay,” Daryl said, shrugging as he sat back down and took Jesus’s hand.  “I’m sorry I forgot about the lube.  Look, if you really wanna play cards, that’s fine.  But I ain’t mad so you don’t have to do that ‘cause of me.”

“You seemed upset with Rosita.”

“I don’t like her knowin’ that much about my sex life,” Daryl said, blushing again.  “I ain’t mad at her either.  It’s just … private.”

“I don’t really want to play cards.”  Jesus sighed and rubbed his thumb across Daryl’s knuckles.  “I didn’t want you to think it was just about the sex,” he admitted.

Daryl scoffed at him.  “We didn’t have sex on any of our other dates so why would I think that?”

Jesus laughed and brought their joined hands up to kiss Daryl’s fingers.  “I really don’t know.  Guess I’m just being silly.”

Daryl leaned forward and kissed him again.  Tender this time with his hands gently rubbing up and down Jesus’s sides. 

“You’re getting really good at that,” Jesus said, a little breathless.

“You said it just takes practice.”  Daryl smirked as he stood and reached out his hand.

“Let’s keep practicing then.”  Jesus grinned, taking Daryl’s hand and following him upstairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another long wait between chapters. Real life and a nasty case of writers block interfered with writing unfortunately. I've almost literally sweated this chapter out so I hope it was worth the wait. lol Once again, thanks so much for all the lovely comments and kudos. I love feedback so I appreciate it very much. Thanks to violetverdeau for beta reading this for me.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a multi-chapter story. I haven't decided how many chapters yet. If the summary is confusing, I'm building up to that moment. Hope everyone enjoys. Thanks to violetverdeau for beta reading this for me.


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